


The Hard Part

by jalendavi_lady



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developmental Disability, Disabled Character, Gen, Permanent Injury, Post - Deathly Hallows, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalendavi_lady/pseuds/jalendavi_lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had never thought physically recovering, much less living with an injury that couldn't be fixed, would be the hard part of living past the end of the war. Spoilers for <i>Deathly Hallows</i>: book and Part 2 movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hard Part

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of "The Hard Part" was written for terajk's '[People with Disabilities (PWD) Being Awesome Commentfic Fest](http://terajk.dreamwidth.org/15589.html)'.
> 
> The prompt is from terajk on DW: "[Any fandom, any PWD, stop helping me.](http://terajk.dreamwidth.org/15589.html?thread=24037#cmt24037)" I went with a 'trying to fix' definition of help. This was partly inspired by watching Roger Ebert's TED Talk on why he can't talk anymore and by some research I did after a relative had much-more-minor problems after throat surgery.
> 
> "The Hard Part" is also based on my personal favorite bit of disability fanon, courtesy of long-ago discussions in the Asperger community on LJ, and given the subject matter there was no way I wasn't going to throw it in.

Severus Snape hadn't thought it would be the hard part when he woke up and understood that he was going to live with the aftermath of everything that had happened.

Surviving Nagini's attack had hurt, but there wasn't much struggle involved in lying still while Poppy poked at him between Sleeping Draughts.

Dealing with the Ministry? When Shacklebolt had peered into a certain Pensieve before it could be emptied? No hearing. He wasn't even going to be called before the Board Of Governors.

His future? When everyone was all for keeping him at his post under some Muggle concept of 'you break it, you bought it'? Not that he minded remaining headmaster, not really - even though he'd not be admitting that any time soon. After the past year, and after years before that being a Head Of House, the Head's Office seemed the best place to stand to keep history from repeating.

Privately at least, he considered that more a responsibility to the future than anything else. It wasn't the hard part, even with its importance to the world.

The hard part hadn't even been those few long afternoons when Potter had asked questions and he had written down everything for the young man, even the things he'd intentionally shared the memories of already for the sake of giving Potter a personal record of it all. The worst of that was already out in the open.

Perhaps the Muggles who said confession was good for the soul had been right. It had been _a_ hard part, undoubtedly, but not _the_ hard part, and the feeling of not hiding things anymore had made up for the effort.

The hard part was this: Poppy apologizing _again_ , lamenting that there was only so much that could be done even with magic and offering to try to find something, anything, even though he already knew that the human throat was so delicate he should be damned grateful that he could breathe and eat without hurting.

Being forced to speak at a loud whisper or less because of pain from damaged vocal chords? There were worse things.

He'd seen worse things happen, often enough that he could have a nightmare a week for the rest of his days and never run out of material.

"Severus, there's a new study. A witch in Boston thinks with the right combination of spellwork and potions..."

"Poppy, no!" he rasped as loudly as he could manage, unable to hold in the resulting grimace.

He felt slightly guilty at the way the blood left her face.

"Poppy, I can manage," he murmured after a short coughing fit and half a glass of water. "Once I get my wand back..."

"You can't cast Sonorous Charms all the time! You'll drain yourself..." she fretted.

"Most of my job is paperwork anyway."

"Severus..."

'stop' he signed, fumbling with his left hand through the mostly unfamiliar motion. Sign language in the wizarding world was one-handed - the better to keep a wand firmly in the other - and supposedly taught at Hogwarts as part of a basic defensive education as a solution to Silencing Charms, but it was so rarely used that most witches and wizards only remembered ten or so signs by the time they took their NEWTs.

The ten signs the NEWTs bothered requiring.

He himself knew the language on sight - the better to 'overhear' his opponents with - but it had been years and years since he'd needed to use any of it. Until now.

Poppy was quiet.

"If I need help, I'll ask for it," he rasped, just on the edge of feeling it. "Let me try to work through this myself."

After a moment, she nodded and handed him yet another potion.

What she didn't know, and what he wasn't going to tell her or any other fellow witch or wizard if he could help it, was that he was still known by the Muggles of his childhood neighborhood as that strange kid who read at two, spoke his first sentence at five, and as an adult could still order dinner at the local pub, eat, pay, and leave in under fifty words.

 _They'll laugh and say I knew I'd need to know how to get by without talking someday,_ he thought as he started to go under. _It will be good to go home._

Another two weeks to go before Poppy would even consider releasing him, thanks to the side-effects of the blood loss combined with those from how he managed to survive - all of which required rest to finish healing and were the main reason for the continued sleeping potions.

He couldn't wait to go home, to have time to adapt in a place where simply not talking much would be just the way he'd always been. The scars would be something even Muggles could understand, even if he'd have to think up an explanation for just _why_ a snake that big had tried to rip his throat out.

 _Never thought I'd be looking forward to going home to the Muggles..._


	2. The Pub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was Brit-picked somewhat by the hp_britglish community on LJ in terms of cultural details. [Passport To The Pub](http://www.sirc.org/publik/pub.html) was another major research source, along with various other websites. Any cultural or other errors which remain are my own.

The Black Sheep was one of the oldest pubs in the area, dating back to before the mill had come.

Before the mill, it had been one of the many King's Arms that dotted the country. After the mill, the landlord had wanted to keep the pub despite the neighboring land purchases of the company that built and ran the mill.

In a deliciously seditious application of 'if you can't beat them, join them', the pub was renamed to fit the changed neighborhood.

And so the Black Sheep, named after a giver of wool the mill couldn't do much of anything with, stood as it always had with its front door facing the river, now backed by rowhouses with the mill itself looming beyond.

It was a Thursday evening late in June.

Late in June, because it had taken this long for Severus Snape to talk his way into Poppy releasing him from the Hospital Wing, and she had long ago learned to take custody of his wand so he couldn't release himself prematurely.

Thursday, because it was shepherd's pie night at the Black Sheep.

Evening because he had quietly moved back into the house at the end of the row in Spinner's End very early that morning, after he and Kingsley Shacklebolt spent half the night checking for any traces of spellwork that hadn't been done by Severus or his mother and then adding new layers to the wards.

Then he had spent the day collapsed across his own bed, no doubt snoring.

Kingsley was handling the initial search for replacement DADA and Muggle Studies teachers. _Thank goodness even Horace decided to stay. Finding two professors is going to be bad enough._

Especially given that everyone knew what had happened to Charity. Even with the change in the political climate, finding a willing replacement was going to be a problem. Many of the most likely candidates were still missing, fate unknown, and it didn't help that he and Kingsley both agreed the staff needed a Muggleborn. Desperately.

It wasn't until the beginning of the last school year that Severus had even realized every single professor had at least one wizarding parent - and then only because no one was ordered in front of the Muggleborn Registration Commission. Charity had known the most about the Muggle world other than Severus, and even he could tell she was wrong about details as often as she was right.

Hopefully a retired Auror would be willing to take on DADA.

But that could all wait, as the familiar door of his favorite pub awaited him.

"Hey, Sev'rus! You're back!" one of the two old men playing backgammon on the table outside called out.

He waved slightly as he walked past them, not quite willing to reveal anything yet.

Neither of them commented. He usually didn't say hello, anyway. It was normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

Just another Thursday night at the Black Sheep as the summer holidays began.

Severus walked in as if nothing was different.

 _At least this year I don't have to explain away being out of sight until August._

The pub was nearly empty. The working day for most of the neighborhood wouldn't be over for another fifteen minutes, and it would be another thirty before most of them could make it as far as the pub.

Martin, the current landlord, called out, "Severus! Back a bit earlier this year?"

He nodded, walking up to the counter.

"Here for your usual?"

Severus shook his head. "Can't. Drug interaction."

Martin blanched slightly and leaned closer to hear better. "What happened to you, mate?"

"Someone I thought I could trust had a pet snake. Big one."

"Oh?"

Severus quietly reached up and pulled down his collar, just a bit.

"Now _that's_ something to scare the little ones with on a Halloween night," he chuckled grimly. "And the owner?"

He raised his collar again to cover the scars. "Killed. His own damn fault." And it was... just not how Martin would take it.

"So you can't have a drink. What do you want?"

Severus pointed at the sign clearly announcing, "Today's Special: Mary's Secret Recipe Shepherd's Pie".

Martin laughed. "Of course, your _other_ usual. What do you want to drink with it?"

"Water. Want to have a drink yourself, since I can't?"

Fifteen minutes later, Severus was settled at his usual table, eating the dinner in front of him and watching the evening crowd filtering in.

Apart from the occasional greeting to which he nodded, everyone left him alone with his meal.

The 'rash of mental owls' was still the chief topic of conversation, weeks later.

There was something wonderful about just being, with the swirl of the Black Sheep going on as it had always been before.

The wizarding community in Britain had been damaged by the war, but was putting itself back together.

So far as Severus could tell, his own childhood neighborhood had barely been affected. _And now, they are safe. Hopefully for a good long while._

It helped make it worth it, even if none of them ever knew why the 'mental owls' were flying in broad daylight.

"Thought I heard you moving around last night." His neighbor invited herself to the empty chair across from him. She pointed at his glass and raised an eyebrow.

He pulled down his collar slightly.

"That'd be why you're late this year," she guessed. "Been in hospital?"

"Weeks."

"Horrid food?"

 _No, obsessively good house-elf cooking where nothing is ever less than perfect, even when less than perfect would taste better._ "Nothing like home. How was your year?"

"Someone tried to burn the library. No evidence, no suspects. Then there was the rash of food poisoning from tainted chips. Oh and my headmaster replaced me with a twenty-something yank who reportedly doesn't even know what a jumper is, just because he's got a fancy library science degree. You?"

"Snake tried to kill me," he rasped.

"You beat my year right there."

They both laughed.

"Students nearly put me in an early grave."

"Again?"

He nodded.

"Don't they do that..."

"Every year." _And this year, most of them probably meant it._

It was one of many things that made him nervous about the letter he'd be sending Neville Longbottom in a few weeks.

"Poor Sev'rus."

He grunted.

"Your headmaster still getting you down?"

Surely he'd remembered to make something up when he'd dragged himself here those two weeks between the Dark Lord taking the Ministry and his own taking control of Hogwarts. Surely he had mentioned _something_.

"Sev'rus?"

"He died. Last year."

"Sorry to hear that. What's the new one like?"

He'd never actually said it. Others had said it around him, he'd alluded strongly to it in the Welcoming Feast, and he'd certainly claimed it when he took possession of the Head's Office properly, but he'd never actually said it himself.

"I'm headmaster now," he whispered. He'd pushed too far tonight, and could feel it. Tomorrow he probably wouldn't be able to talk even this loudly.

Her eyes were wide, then she grinned. "Oi, everybody!"

"Jess!" he hissed as the pub fell silent.

"Sev'rus here got himself made headmaster without telling any of us!"

Wild cheering.

Severus blinked. He hadn't quite expected that.

Apart from he and Jess, the entire immediate neighborhood was made of factory laborers and shop workers. Even the teachers lived elsewhere. _And Jess said nothing about finding new work, so she's probably just now gone on the dole and hoping something opens up nearby._

Their parents had sacrificed so much to buy their homes when the company offered the sale. Neither of them would move unless there were no other way to survive - those walls meant too much to leave.

"Our Toby's boy, a headmaster!" one of the older men chortled with glee.

He had never expected this reaction.

There hadn't been the typical celebration for his appointment last summer because the office had been left open by death and everyone involved knew how it had come about. He hadn't been about to accept or arrange a party among the Death Eaters, preferring to frame it as simply following the Dark Lord's orders and let that be that.

This year, there had been more important things to celebrate and a mourning air lingering around every toast.

Beyond all that, part of him understood everyone still on staff knew his thoughts towards the feasts and holiday parties in the staff room. They probably all thought he preferred to be left alone.

That was, after all, usually the case - but sometimes, the aggravations and bothers of a large-group celebration were worth it.

Being headmaster, surviving the war, and managing to keep every child who entered his care at the Welcoming Feast alive until that final night when the Dark Lord fell from power? That was worth a celebration.

He reached for his wallet as quietly as he could, found the pocket where he'd kept an emergency stash of Muggle folding money just in case he'd ever needed to truly disappear, and palmed a number of folded tenners.

 _That ought to cover a round or two, at least._

He walked up to the counter, handed the money to Martin, and rasped as loud as he could manage without coughing, "Until that runs out, the drinks are on me."

The cheering made the pain and the odd looks at the sound of his voice more than worth it.

Martin counted the notes and gave Severus a decided 'you meant to do this?' look.

It wasn't the sort of thing he usually did, after all. Sometimes he and Jess would trade rounds instead of each buying their own drinks, but that was the only round buying he'd usually do.

“Long-odds bet on a horse, and he won by a nose. Haven't had a chance to be anywhere I could spend it. Why not help everyone celebrate? And that's for your drinks, too, by the way," he whispered across the bar before walking back to the table where Jess was already rising to get her first drink of the night.

 _And with any luck, no one but Martin will figure out exactly how much I just gave him. There goes the money for the decoy tickets to France._

If he needed to flee now, he might not make it to Paris without running out of Muggle money – not if he were going to properly cover his trail.

It was discomforting, in a strange way, but also comforting. He couldn't run non-magically, but there was very little chance he would ever need to consider it.

As headmaster, it really wasn't an option anymore.

He picked up his fork and returned his attentions to his pie.

Jess sat down and started sipping at her cider. “Sorry about drinking in front of you,” she told him.

“Jess,” he hissed, “would it be _on me_ if I minded?”

She grinned.

Something large struck him quite forcefully across the back, and Severus was suddenly very glad the Dark Lord had limited himself to magical punishment. It was jarring enough without fighting back additional anxiety from recent memories.

 _I wish they'd remember not to do that._

“He'd be proud of you,” one of his father's friends told him.

Severus wasn't exactly certain of that, but he wasn't about to question it.

* * *

Severus walked Jess back to their row after the pub closed.

"Don't suppose you've got an opening for a former librarian?"

 _You couldn't even see the school, Jess._ He shook his head regretfully.

"Ah well, I'll find something." She looked at him oddly. "How're you going to manage being headmaster with your voice like that, Sev'rus?"

"It's mostly paperwork." _That and magic that doesn't require talking._ "The deputy headmistress and I have thought some things up. Shouldn't be a problem in small meetings." _Because I can use charms to compensate._ "I can manage."

"Good. Congrats, Sev'rus. They were right, I hope you know. He would have been proud. So would your mum." She waved goodnight and went inside her house.

He followed her lead, closing his own door and sighing with relief at the silence and emptiness of the rowhouse.

He'd probably be all day tomorrow recovering from the stress, the noise, and the heavy claps on the back, but oh... it was worth it.


	3. House Elf

Severus woke to the sound of clanging pots downstairs and was suddenly very glad there were heavy muffling charms on the wall between his home and the rest of the row.

He'd have liked to have a set of muffling charms on his ears.

He rubbed his eyes and croaked while testing to see how much of a voice he had left after last night. After a cough or two, intentionally muffled into his pillow, he tried again. _Not much._

Loud enough to deal with an out-of-place elf, though.

 _Damn it, she wasn't supposed to come here for days. I told her I wanted her resting with the rest of the castle elves._

He looked over at the clock on the wall.

 _Five in the morning. I need to teach her some wizards actually like waking up at ten during the summer._

He dressed as quickly as he could – his usual trousers and a Muggle turtleneck, nothing that could break secrecy or display what was left of his Mark if he needed to leave the house today – and walked down the stairs as quietly as he could.

Less banging now, thank Merlin. He wondered what she'd gotten into this time. _Probably breakfast, no doubt assuming I eat the same at home as at Hogwarts._

Spending a holiday at home meant just that – having a holiday, at home, in a Muggle area where just not using much magic for a while was acceptable and even respectful of wizarding law.

He sighed. She'd gotten into trouble time after time at Hogwarts in the past year, assuming he'd be like her previous master in so many ways, and he'd not been able to explain in anything but a growl. Being kind to an elf could have given him away, of all things.

He'd tried to tell her after the Battle, but he hadn't been sure she'd understood.

She had a way of not understanding, and he'd spent much of the year training himself not to be the least bit sarcastic around her since it always ended in self-punishment even when she was the only one in the castle he wasn't actually complaining about.

Now, it was clear she probably hadn't.

* * *

Muggle kitchens were decidedly not built for house elves.

Two legs barely clad in the open end of an old ratty pillowcase were sticking out of one of his lower cabinets, and from the sounds coming from within Severus was sure she was trying to find something.

 _Probably a style of frying pan I've never owned._

After a few moments, she seemed to finally give up. She crawled backwards and straightened up.

 _I really have got to look up what the legal implications of giving her a nicer pillowcase would be._

Before he'd taken the Head's Office, he'd never had much dealings with house elves, much less _owned_ one.

She stood for a moment, keeping her back to where he stood, clearly uncertain.

Severus noticed the bowl of uncracked fresh eggs already out on the counter by the cooktop. _Observe the noble house elf, so devoted to perfect food for her master that his own pans aren't good enough for him._

And that was when she started pulling at her ears in distress.

"Stop that," he rasped.

She jumped with a squeak and spun around to face him. "Bad Winky woke Master?"

He was dumbfounded. There was no way to answer that wouldn't start her punishing herself again – she'd know if he lied and be ashamed of 'making' him do so. "Winky..."

Tears started running down the sides of her stubby nose, and she was trembling, ordered to not punish herself but also thinking she deserved it.

 _Damn._ "Winky, it's okay. The pots are fine. I don't have anything as nice as what you're used to using, that's all."

"Master deserves better," she lamented softly.

 _That, I may be able to work with._ He knelt on the floor in front of her so he wouldn't have to strain his voice as much. "Yes, Winky, as Headmaster of Hogwarts I _do_ deserve better. That doesn't mean I _want_ it."

She blinked and sniffled.

"I grew up here, in this house, and believe me – it wasn't quite as nice back then. Mum was always much better at brewing potions than casting cleaning charms." He gave her a moment to digest that. "I've never lived like the Crouches did. Just this house and Hogwarts. You're the first house elf I've ever owned, Winky."

And the word was true, now. Legal possession of the headmaster's elf shifted from the school to the headmaster upon the end of his first year in that office. When Snape had been reconfirmed in that office, he had become Winky's real, not just nominal, owner.

He started coughing – he couldn't stop it, he'd talked for too long at a stretch as it was and that was without taking into account the gathering at the pub last night that had already strained almost-healed vocal cords.

There was a squeak, the sound of a cabinet being thrown open by magic, the sound of the faucet, and then...

Then there was Winky, tugging at his sleeve to let him know she was there and pressing a cup of water into his hand. "Here, sir."

"Good elf," he told her weakly once he'd finally managed to stop.

She looked at him with wide brown eyes.

 _I... I've never actually said that to her, have I?_ "Winky, you are a good elf. I'm used to being on my own, and I was doing my best to try to protect you last year. Now, things can be different."

"You was trying to protect Winky, sir?"

He nodded. "If you had remained free, you could have been killed. If you'd been a normal Hogwarts elf, the Carrows would have had access to you. The things Alecto could have done to an elf she knew had been free... And I kept you away from my secrets so that if my cover were blown, there would be a chance I would be the only one of the two of us tortured and killed." He was down to whispering now, but since he had her full attention that ought to be enough.

That was when she grabbed her ears and started sobbing even harder than she hard before.

 _Sweet Merlin, what did I say this time?_ He took a moment to strengthen the muffling charms on the room, just in case.

He still wanted a set on his ears.

"Master didn't want Winky," she finally wailed.

"No. Master didn't want Winky to die the way Medy did."

Now she was crying and trembling, but at least she was holding her ears instead of pulling them.

Medy had been Albus Dumbledore's house elf for as long as Severus could remember, and unless his mother's recollections had been wrong Medy had been serving Dumbledore for as long as he had been headmaster. Nominally she had been freed in his will, but there was a Ministry process required to free a Headmaster's personal elf because of the private and sensitive information involved.

Medy had been ordered to run if Albus were to die. Medy had been ordered to keep his secrets, no matter what.

Medy had taken two weeks to die after she was brought before the Dark Lord. The only words she said were, "Yous been a bad boy, Tom!"

A master's order is a house elf's highest law, and Medy's freedom had existed only on a scrap of parchment, nothing more.

 _And after Medy's death and knowing what Harry would have to face, I should have expected that my own demise could have been in Albus' plans._

He stayed silent there until Winky calmed. She seemed to finally look at him clearly as she wiped the last of her tears away with the corner of her pillowcase, squeaked, and fell backwards.

Severus chuckled grimly. _Never dealt with a wizard who liked to be at eye-level with whoever he was speaking to, have you, Winky?_ "Winky, you kept Barty's secrets for years. And those were true secrets. I know I can trust you with mine, now that the danger is gone."

And that did her in again.

He stood and put the eggs back in the refrigerator while she was getting the happy tears out of her.

He squeezed his eyes shut to reduce the sudden glare of the little lightbulb as it made him more aware of his impending headache. _Now I'm definitely going to need the entire day to recover. First the pub, now a distressed house elf. What next?_

Just one more thing to do, and then he could try to take a nap until the middle of the day. "Winky, have you already made yourself a nest here?"

She nodded, blushing to her ears.

"Where? There are odd corners of the house that aren't safe for an elf to sleep in."

She opened one of the doors under the sink.

"That would be one of them, Winky. That pipe won't stop leaking. It never has."

"Winky doesn't mind, sir."

"I mind. You house elves prefer cabinets, even in the Hogwarts' kitchens?"

"Yes, sir."

 _I wonder..._ "Does the cabinet need to be near the kitchen?"

"It is traditional, sir."

"So it's easier for you to cook and clean without letting anyone notice you exist, you mean."

She nodded, looking a bit confused.

 _Right. Don't talk about making things easier for her or asking what she wants. Knowing how to deal with that's been trained out of most of them._ "But something like that cubbyhole you've got in the Head's Office would also work?"

She brightened. "Yes, sir. Easily, sir!"

"Then I may know a good candidate. Meet me at the top of the steps."

She disappeared.

* * *

Ten minutes later, he was on his bedroom floor rummaging through the short but deep cabinet he had used as a bedside table for years.

 _Empty it out, make a few modifications... It may not even take magic._ He sat with his eyes closed for a moment. _Not doing magic would be good._

Winky was beginning to pull her ears again.

"Winky, find an empty box for me. Strong enough for glass vials."

A moment later it was on the floor beside him.

"Make sure the vials all stay securely upright, Winky. We can sort through them all later."

"But Master needs..." she practically whined, obviously in high distress that he was cleaning out his bedside stockpile.

"One, I have you now. I can ask for things halfway across the house without having to get up myself. Two, the Dark Lord is dead. I shan't need most of these ever again."

The first thing he pulled out was a pain potion he'd need in six hours, which he promptly put on the top of the cabinet.

The second was a local anesthetic for his throat, which he quickly took.

And then the great clearing out began. Once he got started, he didn't bother looking away from the shelves more than was needed to be sure Winky had taken the vials from him.

It was not long – thankfully, as his head was getting worse – before he was down to bare shelves.

Adjustable shelves, thank the Muggle carpenters, which could be removed in under a minute. Getting the last bits of hardware out took only a little longer.

"That a big enough space for you to fit a nest in, Winky?" His voice was still barely there, but it hurt less to talk.

"Yes, sir." Her voice was very subdued.

Severus turned sideways to look at her.

Winky was looking into the box of potions, obviously taking stock of what was there.

He left her there as he walked over to where he kept a bin of old clothes, torn sheets, towels, and washrags for future use as rags in his potions lab on the magically-created – and hidden - third floor. He picked through it, selecting the most intact of the sheets and towels, before carrying them over to Winky and dumping them on the floor beside her.

"Sir..."

"These were going to be ripped into rags, eventually. I have no other use for them. Take what you can use and leave the rest. If you find any old pillowcases in halfway reasonable condition, you have my explicit permission to set them aside for your later use."

"Thank you, sir."

She was still subdued.

"I normally sleep late during the summer and am particularly tired from moving back in and going to a pub last night to celebrate – you couldn't have known. I need to take that pain potion by noon. If I'm not awake again by thirty 'til, I _expect_ you to wake me, and no matter what may I say at that time you are not to punish yourself for doing so."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Now, I am going to see how many more hours of sleep I can get and you are going to settle in." He flipped the light switch. "Can you still see well enough, Winky?"

"Yes, sir."

 _Finally._ He pulled his shoes back off and stretched out on top of the bedclothes with his back to Winky and her activities.

He thought he heard her whisper, "Have a good sleep, Master," as he drifted off.


	4. Noon

The room was dim and his vision blurry, tunneled.

His mind was racing, going nowhere, trying to process everything and failing.

There was hissing nearby. He thought he heard a human speak, but he couldn't make sense of the words.

His own blood on his hands.

Footsteps, leaving.

The pain began to filter through the shock.

Along with the rest of reality.

He was alone, throat ripped out or close enough to make no difference.

The Dark Lord had the Deathstick.

And Potter did not know why he must die, _that_ he must die.

He had failed at the one task which mattered most. The task he least wished to do.

Even if the Dark Lord fell...

Little hands shaking him. "Master! You is having a nightmare!"

Severus jerked awake.

There was a startled squeak.

 _Nightmare,_ he realized, _just a nightmare._

Damn his throat hurt.

"Time?" he whispered as softly as he could.

"Eleven fifteen, sir."

 _Another forty-five minutes until I can take the next pain potion._

He and Poppy had figured out the dosing schedule so that he would never be asleep when the last potion started wearing off. He'd obviously forgotten that in the wee hours of the morning.

"Winky is sorry..."

"What for?" he asked before she could get any farther.

"For waking Master before he told her to."

"Winky..." He sighed and turned over to where he could look at her as she stood on the bed beside him. "You have my explicit permission to wake me from nightmares. And my thanks." _That's more effort than stringing words together has taken in a while..._

Her eyes teared up, and he wasn't entirely sure if it was because of what he'd said or what she said next.

"Master is hurting."

"Potion, noon. Not before. The one I set out this morning." Grammar could become a concern once he stopped hurting.

She nodded, urgently. "Winky understands, Master. Winky will makes sure Master takes it at noon." She backed up.

"Stay with me," he ordered hoarsely. "And sit down."

"Master wants Winky to sit?" she asked as if she couldn't believe it.

 _Believe it, Winky._ "Master wants Winky to sit with him."

Winky knelt on the sheets beside his shoulder.

He closed his eyes. Yes, that headache from last night and early this morning _was_ trying to come back.

He tried to focus anyway.

Occlumency could be used in particular circumstances to deal with pain by simply ignoring it, but it rarely worked on headaches and almost never worked unless the barriers were put in place before the pain grew.

Severus had fallen asleep pain-free and failed to wake before the painkillers began to wear off.

 _And of course I was a damn fool and used Occlumency when Poppy was determining the potion and dose I need now!_

And he was not about to admit it to her. Not when she was going to be his primary physician until one of them retired.

He didn't dare adjust anything himself. Normally he'd have had no compunction against it whatsoever, but given that he still didn't entirely understand the reaction between Nagini's venom and potions he'd taken earlier that night which had kept his body and soul together and Poppy did, he wasn't going to risk a surprise magical interaction that might not end so happily.

He silently cursed the dangerous reaction that kept him from taking the throat-numbing potion within a few hours either way of the general painkiller.

He also wished he'd thought carefully enough to find out the maximum safe dose from Poppy before he left the school, just in case.

He'd just been so happy to be leaving.

So happy Lily's son had found a way, no matter how, to survive.

So happy to be free.

He felt a small hand lightly rest on his shoulder and opened his eyes just enough to glance down.

Winky squeaked and the hand moved away.

"Don't," he told her, barely able to get the word out. "Helped."

There was no response from her.

At least she wasn't punishing herself for daring to touch him without either an actual need to while serving him, as when she'd handed him water that morning, or his permission.

After another moment and closing his eyes again, he fumbled through a sign he hoped she'd recognize.

'please'

The squeak this time was shocked and - so Severus thought, at least - a bit scandalized.

Wizards and witches did not, after all, say 'please' or 'thank you' to the house elves they owned. Tell them they were good elves, sometimes, but 'please' and 'thank you' were for humans.

But Severus didn't care for that distinction, and a moment later Winky's hand was back. Trembling, but back.

Occlumency meant to hide things from the wizard doing it always worked better with an external physical focus.

"Time?" he asked once he finally had his perception of the pain under some semblance of control.

"Fifteen 'til, sir."

Fifteen minutes. He could handle fifteen minutes.

He kept his eyes closed and kept his focus on the pressure of Winky's hand and the sound of his own breathing.

"Noon, sir!" Winky squeaked happily.

'help' he asked her.

The hand left. He heard the sound of a vial being uncorked, and a moment later the smooth coolness of glass was against his lower lip as her hand helped him get his head up enough to drink the potion.

And then his head was back on the pillow. "Does Master want his breakfast now, sir?" she asked.

"Water, first," he said as the pain began fading.

"Right away, sir!" She disapparated and Severus could hear the tap running downstairs.

Good. That meant she remembered even under stress what he'd told her at Hogwarts: they needed to use the Muggle utilities at Spinner's End to maintain the summertime fiction of him being a Muggle academic home for the holiday.

No water from the tap would mean he or others having to oblivate someone sooner or later.

There was similar reasoning behind his use of electric lights, a fully-Muggle heating system, and the purchase of not only the small television sitting on the table in the corner but also of the license to go with it.

(And the BBC thought _Muggles_ had creative ways of not paying the license fee. There was an entire shelf at Flourish  & Blotts devoted to getting Muggle services without paying the Muggles or letting other wizards and witches find out, and Severus personally knew more than a few of those volumes specialized in hiding television use.)

Severus opened his eyes when he heard Winky apparate into the room. "Here, sir."

He rolled on his side and propped himself up on an elbow before taking the glass from her.

"You've been a great help this morning, Winky," he told her in a low whisper after he finished the water.

She looked quite proud of herself, but kept just standing there on the floor at a sort of attention.

Severus sighed. "Pumpkin juice and porridge. I'm not sure I can keep anything heavier down at the moment." Before she had a chance to disapparate, he added, "And please try to keep the noise down."

Winky nodded and left. A moment later, Severus could hear her begin to carefully select a pot - much more quietly than she had in the early morning hours.

He eased back down.

The pain was fading, nearly gone, but he still needed to recover from the stress of last night's celebration. He knew that all too soon he'd be going back to Hogwarts and trying to pull together final plans for the coming school year, as well as choosing between whatever candidates for the open professorships Kingsley managed to find.

This was supposed to be a true no-work-except-emergencies finish-healing break from Hogwarts, at the urging of the Ministry and the rest of the staff.

So why not just take the day - just the one day - off from everything and let Winky pamper him as much as she clearly wanted to? Just the once?

The Dark Lord was gone. The war was over. The one thing he could do now for Lily's son was to prepare himself for the coming school year - the boy's last.

Harry James Potter was an adult now in the wizarding world and soon to the Muggles as well, and even as Headmaster Severus now had no authority to do anything more for him unless he asked.

And he had not asked.

Potter had asked his questions, taken his answers, and left the Hospital Wing without much more than a perfunctory 'Get Well Soon, Professor'.

Severus really couldn't blame him, as in a similar situation he would have likely done the same, but he hadn't seen or heard from the younger wizard since.

Winky popped back into the room with a tray. Severus propped himself up in bed before taking it from her.

"Winky, I need to rest today," he told her after she had taken the dishes away. "We'll see to sorting those potions tomorrow."

"Winky understands, sir."

He couldn't hold in the smirk. _Oh, do you now?_ "And as such, this would be the day to engage in those master-indulging activities I so _cruelly_ denied you the chance to demonstrate this past year."

Winky blinked, thought for a moment, and then stammered, "Master isn't cruel!"

He sighed, taking the compliment but not at all happy she'd missed the point. _I've got to stop forgetting that she doesn't understand sarcasm. And I doubt the first-years would agree with her, anyway._ "I want you to pamper me, Winky. Whatever you wanted to do this year that I couldn't let you because I couldn't _afford_ to relax until the war was over. I'll just rest my voice and let you know if I don't want you to do something or I want you to stop."

Her eyes grew wide. She gasped very faintly.

Then, she disapparated and was back in less than a minute with his favorite hairbrush, grinning almost as widely as the day he'd accepted her service.

 _But neither of the Crouches wore his hair... oh. She hasn't had a master or mistress with longer than ear-length hair since Mrs. Crouch died._

Severus rolled onto his front, hugging a pillow to help support his neck. "New rule, Winky: If we are alone and no one else can see, you have my permission to sit or kneel any time it will help you in your duties."

"Any time?" she squeaked, sounding as if he'd just announced she could have her pick of the queen's private jewels for her very own.

(Considering the ways he'd seen house-elves treated, he knew he might as well have.)

He felt the bed shift as she popped up on the mattress.

"As long as it's just us." _There's no need to keep up appearances when no one is watching._

"Thank you, sir!" She knelt beside him.

 _This does feel good. Sweet Merlin, is this why the teenage witches are always doing each other's hair in the Common Room? I thought they were just preening for the Quidditch players..._

Neither of them said anything for about fifteen minutes. "Winky?"

The brush stopped. "Yes, sir?"

"Remind me of this after the next staff meeting."

"Of course, sir." Even he could hear the smile in her voice.

 _Perhaps I'm not as bad at being a master to a house-elf as I thought._ He hoped that was the case, for he knew from what bits of elf-lore he'd been exposed to that the Dark Lord could only dream of having the power wizards had over their house-elves over his Death Eaters.

And what he'd had was already the stuff of nearly two decades of Severus' nightmares.


	5. Noise In The Street

It started raining not long into the afternoon, a constant gentle rain that was enough to coat the window panes but not enough to still the sounds of the neighborhood children coming from the streets.

When Winky brought him a roast beef sandwich – Severus had a feeling the rest of the roast would be dinner – Agnes Murphy across the street was calling for her boys to come and get their raingear please.

For the third time.

Severus had always been very glad that no one in Agnes' family showed even the vaguest sign of being magic. Her pack would have tried even Hagrid's nerves.

 _Hell, they'd try_ Molly's _nerves!_

But then, Agnes had been quite the little horror herself when they'd all been children. Luckily, her family had lived on the other side of the mill, and she hadn't started coming into this part of the neighborhood until she'd started courting Robert – long _after_ Severus had started attending Hogwarts.

Winky was looking toward the window, listening intently.

She'd been doing that since she'd made sure the sandwich met his expectations.

“I take it you've never been in a Muggle neighborhood before?” he asked casually.

“No, sir,” Winky told him, turning around only as much as she had to.

“Not even before you came to Hogwarts?” He would have expected her to take refuge in areas with few wizards. Most free house elves with no plan did, eventually, or so he'd always been told.

She shook her head. “Dobby found Winky, and asked for work together at Hogwarts. 'Twas around Halloween, Sir. Winky was not so desperate yet.”

 _So, going to places where few wizards dwell is a desperate act for a house elf -- they do it out of necessity, not by choice._

Severus didn't like any of the potential implications.

* * *

Severus had just finished eating the first half of his sandwich when the sounds in the street changed.

Winky looked at him for reassurance.

"There's probably a stranger in the street," he told her. "It doesn't happen often." _At least not in the daylight during the summer._

Few of the reasons a stranger might enter Spinner's End were things many wished to do in the daylight.

The local drug dealers and other peddlers of vice were convinced the street was jinxed, given the amount of bad luck they had in this part of the neighborhood.

(And they were right, not that they knew it.)

Severus stood and walked to the window.

A young man was walking down the row, holding a map rightside up.

A map Severus knew should have been held upside down for the direction he was walking.

He was wearing a scarlet cap, a lightweight black jacket, and a pair of blue jeans which barely had knees.

The map looked so waterlogged that Severus thought it would have still been useless even if he'd held it the right way, and the young man was quickly coming to resemble the map.

As the young man got closer, Severus recognized the touch of golden trim on the cap that marked it as one of the house color hats a few wizarding clothiers sold to help wizarding youngsters blend in with their Muggle neighbors during school holidays.

 _Gryffindor._ And after a moment of further observation, he knew who.

"Damn it, Potter," he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

Kingsley could Floo to his home. Minerva and the other heads of house had been granted access as well. Any of the Hogwarts elves could have Apparated with news.

 _What could have happened to send Potter here on foot that Winky would not have known about when she arrived last night?_

"Stay here," he softly ordered Winky.

Severus ran down the stairs and only slowed at the front door.

He couldn't let Agnes know anything might be going on.

He couldn't let anyone who might be watching understand that he was already primed for a duel if it came to it -- even in his current condition.

He also braced himself for the certain need for legilimency. To check for Imperius Curses on the boy. To check for Polyjuice Potion.

And of course, there was the other much more mundane set of needs that never went away.

It was to Severus' advantage that no one other than his immediate childhood contacts knew just how easy that art had come for him.

His mother had fled. His father had died. Lily was gone. No one alive and reachable knew.

 _Maybe even no one alive,_ Severus thought darkly. His mother had legally transferred everything in the house -- along with the house -- to him on her way into hiding. If she'd changed her will, and he knew she would have, then there would be no way for Severus to know if Eileen Prince Snape were dead. If he weren't in her will at the time of her passing, the Ministry might never notify him.

Severus placed his hand on the doorknob very deliberately.

 _Time for acting for the Muggles again._

Severus opened the door, took in the image of Agnes helping Potter flip the map for a moment, and then demanded in the loudest voice his throat would allow him to manage today, " _Potter!_ What are you doing here!?"

Potter immediately looked at him, shock and relief on his face.

Or, at least, what Severus thought were likely to be shock and relief. It was rather like the look the boy'd had whenever Albus cancelled exams. Or the day _The Daily Prophet_ had summoned him from Potions during the Triwizard Cup.

"Professor? Long story..."

"And blowing up my chemistry lab every year wasn't enough? You had to follow me home?"

"I was looking for Mum's old neighborhood, but Aunt Petunia wouldn't tell me anything more than the name of the town. I got the street address off an old letter, but..."

"It's not been there for more than a decade." A shame really. It had been a nice neighborhood, a bit in disrepair by then but nothing like Spinner's End.

Potter nodded. "And then I got lost."

Agnes laughed. "This'd be Lily's boy then, Severus?"

"This is Lily's Harry," he confirmed.

Severus opened the door just a little more open and jerked his head toward the widened gap.

And for once, Potter took the hint, thanking Agnes and quickly crossing the street.

"The last train toward your home left an hour ago," Severus told him, straining to make sure Agnes heard. "And the inns that will have rooms left aren't places I'd send dogs to."

Potter met his eyes long enough for the surface reading that was all Severus wished to dare.

No curses controlling him. That now-familiar edge where something else used to be and wasn't now letting Severus know that this could be no one else _but_ The-Boy-Who-Lived.

And an understanding that he wasn't referring to house pets.

Harry sighed. "The sofa, then?"

"Unless you'd actually prefer the floor."

"That sofa was lumpy when Toby bought it!" Agnes called out helpfully.

Severus gave her a half-hearted glare and motioned Potter inside.


	6. Inside The House

Severus closed the door behind Harry and cast a quick defensive ward on it. 

Just in case.

"Was the story you just told true?"

Harry looked confused.

"Nothing wrong at Hogwarts. Nothing happened to anyone in the Order?"

"No. I didn't even know you still lived here. Or even that you had been in this part of town."

Severus relaxed. "Who knows you are in Cokeworth?"

"Kreacher and Hermione."

"You need to be more careful with yourself than that."

Harry's eyes were nearly as defiant as Severus had ever seen them. "He's dead."

"And so he is no longer here to enforce his claimed privilege on your life." Severus kept his voice even lower than he had to, forcing the younger wizard to listen. "And as news of how you survived leaks out, fear of a man who seemingly cannot be killed will cease to protect you. _Permanently._ "

Harry's demeanor completely changed, and even Severus didn't need legilimency to tell his mind had almost completely frozen.

Time for a different approach.

"Just for once, can you not take mindless, purposeless risks until after the Ministry have caught the Dark Lord's followers who fled the night of the battle?"

That was enough to trigger another coughing fit.

Harry helped him find his way to his chair.

And then he felt the hand settle between his shoulders.

He heard the water running in the kitchen, and a moment later Harry was helping small hands give him a glass of water.

While he was recovering his breath, he heard Harry say, "Winky?"

A moment later, the house elf was clinging to his legs.

Severus patted her head. "You're fine."

"But... I thought..." Harry stammered.

"Did you think the Dark Lord would tolerate a free house elf at Hogwarts School?" Severus asked between sips of water.

Harry's feet shuffled uncomfortably.

"Dobby and Winky were both given the choice to leave or stay. Winky chose to stay." His voice was down to a whisper. "And as Headmaster, I _am_ supposed to have a personal elf as a perk of the position."

"And you chose her."

Severus nodded. "It kept her safe. Kept me safe. Winky is wonderful at keeping secrets, even for an elf."

She flushed to the tips of her ears.

 _Good._ That meant she did understand at least some of what he'd been up to as a spy, even if she hadn't quite gotten the whys and how he wasn't like the Crouches into her head yet.

"Winky, go make sure there's enough food in the house for Mr. Potter and myself to eat tonight and tomorrow."

She left.

"Potter, how did you end up wetter than if you'd jumped in the lake?"

He took a deep breath. "I didn't know it was going to rain. I couldn't find a safe place to do wandwork without being seen."

"And why did you not simply buy an umbrella?"

"I brought lunch with me, I hadn't planned on getting lost, and I didn't have the Muggle money for one."

"Potter!"

He flinched.

"Three meals, one night's lodgings. _That's_ how much money you need secreted on your person, at all times, in _both_ currencies," he rasped. "You have never _not_ been hunted, didn't anyone ever bother teaching you how to survive?"

"No," Harry said bluntly, now visibly shivering. "One man taught me how to die, my relatives taught me how to hide and pretend I didn't exist, and everyone else taught me magic that wasn't actually of much use on the run. What was actually useful was mainly things we'd taught ourselves."

"Not even my Defense class?" Severus asked, intentionally making his voice sound dangerous.

"And who do you think was _teaching_ in the DA my fifth year?" Potter shot back. "We already knew shielding charms because of that, not because of Umbridge."

After a moment of mixed pride and anger - pride that Lily's son had pulled that off and _kept it secret_ , anger that he'd put himself in that much casual danger of being expelled with the Dark Lord active - Severus put two and two together and did not like the answer. "Is that why you _never_ practiced occlumency?"

"I _tried_ ," the younger wizard protested. "Between the DA, Umbridge, the nightmares, the fact Dumbledore was ignoring the fact I existed almost all year…"

"The visions might have stopped if you had just…"

" _Not_ the visions. The nightmares. His face on the back of Quirrell's head. The basilisk. Dementors. The tri-wizard tasks. Watching Cedric die. Thinking I was about to die. Dementors trying to kiss my cousin. Being put on trial for saving his life. And no one acting like any of it had happened from one year to the next. Umbridge standing in front of the class asking why we thought we'd ever need to defend ourselves against _anything_ , and…"

He sneezed hard enough he almost knocked himself off his feet.

"Don't you know how to dry yourself off?" Severus griped at him.

"Madam Pomfrey does it silently, and the Quidditch uniforms are already charmed for water-repulsion when they're assigned. We learned how to _repel_ water in Charms, not how to dry ourselves off after we'd already been soaked."

Severus put a hand over his face. _Yet another curriculum modification long overdue. No wonder the purebloods think Muggle-borns have no sense, if they've had to teach themselves…_

 _Damn._ I _taught Lily that one. I should have realized…_

"Sir?" Potter asked.

"I am thinking of the curriculum changes that are going to be needed, if that sort of basic _survival_ magic isn't being taught." He looked up at Potter again, then pulled out his wand. "Listen closely."

He dried Potter off, carefully enunciating the spell.

Potter carefully repeated the words while miming the wand movement.

"Correct."

He was still shivering. Severus got up, grabbed a throw from the sofa, and wrapped it around Potter's shoulders.

"I thought…"

"You were expecting magic?" _Damn. I'll be lucky if I can talk tomorrow._

 _I was already lucky to talk today._

Potter nodded.

"And does Madam Pomfrey hand you the sick bucket before or after?"

"Befo… oh."

"Indeed," Severus whispered. He looked around the room, then grabbed a Muggle pad of paper and a self-inking quill. "Thermal shock = changing body temperature too fast. Dangerous."

"Is that why warming potions work gradually?" Potter asked after he finished reading.

Severus stared at him.

"I'm only bad at _making_ potions," he protested.

Severus had to accept the point - the boy's papers on _identifying_ potions and what they were used for had been somewhat satisfactory, certainly enough for Severus to be sure he was _not_ working to his potential in Potions. It was his brewing skills and lack of theoretical understanding which kept his marks down.

 _And yet he still made an E on his OWL_ , Severus reminded himself.

And only Severus, Horace, and the Ministry knew just how _strong_ an E.

It was, after all, what had made Horace believe his sudden classroom successes under a new professor were completely genuine.

And had made even Severus mildly unsure of what was going on until Potter started trying to evade him.

He took back the paper. "Yes. Poppy can react if something goes wrong. A potion might be consumed by anyone at any time, with no one else around to give aid."

Potter smiled. "And a first aid kit is no use if it takes having a healer around to use it."

Falling into the familiar patterns of teacher and student jarred Severus' memory. "Have you decided whether or not to return to Hogwarts and sit NEWTs?" he wrote.

"I'm coming back. Even if I didn't need the education, I need the time to… I think Hermione called it 're-acclimation'?"

Severus nodded.

"I need the time to re-acclimate to having people around again. And there are a _lot_ of things I want to know before I'm on my own, even if I have to teach myself."

Winky popped back into the room, plate in hand. "Master is forgetting his sandwich," she whispered as if she were unsure if he would be pleased or angered by her sudden burst of initiative.

"Excellent service," he told her in what little voice he could manage as he took the plate from her.

Potter looked downright stricken at the sound.

"you eat when?" he signed.

"This morning. I wasn't going to sit down and eat when I was that lost." He pulled a squashed packet out of his pocket.

Winky looked absolutely offended.

Severus gave her a nod.

She was quickly gone and back again with a sandwich for the young wizard. "What will Mister Potter be drinking?" she asked with the slight imperiousness of a house elf who knows she is acting with the full backing of her master.

"Pumpkin juice, please." Potter caught Severus' amused glance once Winky had delivered the drink, verbally confirmed that there was enough food for the two wizards in the house, and disapparated again. "We couldn't get wizarding food," the teen explained. "Just whatever we could scrounge from Muggles or what we could catch or gather ourselves. Hermione accidentally packed Ron's old jeans, but he lost so much weight they fit him again now."

"eat!"

The way they had all looked half-starved immediately after the battle made a lot more sense now.

As did the fact Potter had eaten his entire sandwich before Severus finished the remaining half of his own.

"Your goals after your NEWTs?" Severus wrote once they were both done.

"I don't know," Potter admitted.

Severus stared at him. _He has an open offer from Kingsley to enter the Auror training program this fall instead of waiting, and he doesn't know what he'll do after leaving?_

After an uncomfortable moment, he added, "I can't be an Auror."


	7. Chapter 7

_Can't? It's been his dream since fifth year, at the latest. Probably_ first _year, given his talent for getting right in the middle of trouble._

Severus had always been against it, on principle of keeping him safe if nothing else, but seeing him in Hogwarts again, so poised, secure, and above all still ready to fight after the better part of a year on the run had made Severus realize that Potter might be well suited to the long-term stakeout branch of the Aurors.

The lower personal risk division, as it were.

It couldn't be medical.

Severus would have already known if there were a medical reason Harry James Potter could not become an Auror. He was headmaster of Hogwarts School, and right now the Hospital Wing, _not_ St. Mungo's, was the safest place for any of the higher profile enemies of the Dark Lord to receive medical care. He wouldn't necessarily have gotten the details yet - Harry had been in a sort of status limbo until he'd announced his intention to remain a student just now - but Severus surely would have been told an injury or condition of that magnitude _existed_ , for security reasons if nothing else.

Kingsley would have been told, for the same security reasons. The Aurors were augmenting the school security for the summer.

 _Kingsley wouldn't dangle the boy's dream in his face if he knew there was something medical blocking him from achieving it,_ Severus thought. _He doesn't think that way, thank Merlin, and even if he did he wouldn't want to do it._

Severus wrote, "We can discuss your educational future after dinner, if you want to start considering alternative career choices now."

Potter seemed oddly relieved as he read the words.

Severus wished he dared use legilimency properly on him, but he was afraid of what he might find.

Then, Potter seemed confused. "I'm thankful for the food, sir, but…"

Severus signed for him to go on.

"…well, couldn't I Floo…"

"no" Severus signed.

"why?" Potter signed back.

 _Just my luck, one of the non-NEWT signs he's managed to retain had to be_ that _one._ He switched back to the pad of paper. "You are known to be here. You are known to be Lily's son. And you are known to be a student I rant about at length when I and a friend compare student horror stories at the beginning of the summer. You are well known for the damage you do to my  chemistry lab. They know Lily was a friend long ago, and so will not wonder why I offered you lodging for the night. They will, however, expect to see you alive and unharmed tomorrow, on your way to the train station."

It took Harry a while to read it all, but in the end he nodded. "That makes sense. They'd be worried if I just disappeared in the night, and since I don't know my way around the town it wouldn't make sense for me to have left on my own before dawn. And I said publicly I was looking for where Mom grew up but hadn't found anything, so it wouldn't make sense for me to just leave."

Severus took back the pad and thought for a moment. He finally offered, "I could show you the things that are left. Tomorrow's last train leaves quite a bit later than today's. And why didn't you check the return schedule?"

Potter blushed when he read to the last bit. "I'm not used to round trips. Just the Hogwarts Express. And then I rode around some in the summer before sixth year, but that was all local to London and the trains are closer together and run earlier and later."

Severus stared at him, _again_. All the security the Order had put around Privet Drive, and The Boy Who Lived had been joyriding on the London Underground in the open, _alone_.

Not for the first time did it grate on his nerves that his days of yelling at Albus' portrait were now permanently over. _Sonorous_ and similar charms just didn't provide the satisfaction.

He'd have also loved to have Moody around to give a similar piece of his mind.

"The Dark Lord was HUNTING YOU and you were off riding trains to no one else knew where!" he demanded, the letters large and angry.

Potter blanched.

Winky popped back into the room. "'Tis six o'clock, sir," she told him, holding out a familiar vial.

 _Good._ He hoped the numbing potion would actually get him through to midnight as long as he stayed awake. It had the night before, barely.

He caught something that might have been concern in Potter's eyes as he took the dose, and wished again that he both dared and had the strength for proper legilimency.

It was so hard trying to read people without more than the barest surface legilimency. He'd managed last night simply because he'd known them all so long and so well.

Potter was a different situation entirely. It was already odd enough that they had 'talked' so long without either of them either being chased out of or storming from the room.

Particularly without any human witnesses around to separate them if necessary. Not that anyone ever had.

He couldn't tell if the concern was for him, or for the size of the dose, or for the implication behind it that the breakthrough pain was still That Bad…

Or it could have just been concern that Potter would soon be going back to Hogwarts, a school led by a headmaster still this damaged with how few short months left until the new term began, and what would it mean to attend Hogwarts with the headmaster barely fit to defend himself?

"If you need to rest for a little while, I'll leave you alone," Potter offered. "I brought a book for the train. It's slower reading than I thought it would be."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Dickens. _David Copperfield_. I figured knowing something about some of the Muggle classics wouldn't hurt."

Severus Summoned a footstool over to his chair and leaned back. "Father used to joke that _Hard Times_ was written about this town," he mumbled, grateful for the momentary relief of the pain.

Potter looked confused.

"This is Coke _worth_. _Hard Times_ is set in Coke _town_. Mum used to read Dickens out loud after dinner."

It was to Potter's credit that he did not ask why.

Tobias _had_ been literate - in the way a mill-worker son and grandson of other mill-workers had to be by his generation, and not much more. Enough to read most of the local paper on his own, written as it was for the community that worked in and around the mill, and for him to muddle through parts of the Bible and the Book Of Common Prayer whenever he chose to try. Not enough for Dickens, and it had grated once he'd understood what he'd been denied. Eileen had both her magic and literature, while Tobias had neither. The communal readings had been an eventual 'solution' to the educational inequality of the household. He had loved _Hard Times_ most of all because it was about his world.

It had still rankled, in ways Severus had no way to understand or even really perceive at the time, that Severus could already read better than Tobias at forty before he was _four_.

After a quiet period with no noise but the rain outside and the flipping of pages, Potter asked, "Were things really as bad as he describes?"

Severus opened his eyes again. "Easily."

Potter visibly shivered.

"There are still Muggles living in Cokeworth who went to work at the mill when they were ten years old, Potter. The laws allowed it, even if it was rarer than it had been."

He appeared properly horrified.

"And it still happens sometimes now, internationally."

"And the way his family forced him into the factory…?"

Severus snorted. "That book is very nearly Dickens' autobiography with the names changed and relationships modified. He _was_ forced into a similar factory. It's how he could describe it so well."

Potter's face had blanched less when he'd faced a live nesting dragon.

Severus had to think for a moment before he put together a few things, including some questionable hardware discovered on doors in the Dursley household after the battle at Privet Drive. "Tuney wouldn't have dared," he whispered quite firmly.

"Uncle Vernon would have."

"Potter, we would have found out. Arabella would have noticed." He coughed.

"Well, there's a lot of things that she didn't notice," Potter bit out under his breath.

Severus let the comment slide. It was, after all, apparent from what he'd seen in that house that the Order had suffered from a serious lack of intelligence on Potter's home life. Even just the fact it was possible for Potter to be locked in a single room was something the defense team should have been aware of.

And now that Potter was out of that house and living as an independent wizard in a house he owned outright, it was entirely his own business who he told and how much he told of what had happened to him in Petunia Dursley's home.

Besides, without legilimency as a possibility, Severus knew he would have trouble reading Potter's emotions as well as he would be expected to.

Better to wait before he tried to press any information from him.

Potter put the book down.

Severus didn't need magic to realize that was not a good sign, just years of honed spycraft.

 _He can't stand to read any more of the book._

Potter didn't try to continue the conversation.

After about twenty minutes of watching the younger wizard through mostly closed eyes, Severus realized that Potter had been serious about giving him the time to rest - especially to rest his voice. And with nothing there to do without poking around the room, Potter was simply going to sit in silence.

"Potter."

"Professor?"

Severus almost rolled his eyes. _Seven years, he finally finds manners, and he uses the old title._ Albus had been content to be simply 'Professor' to students even after he'd been headmaster for decades, but Severus had discovered he himself had a different taste in personal address.

 _Once the school year starts, I'll correct him,_ Severus promised himself.

"If you wish to revisit your coursework prior to the beginning of the term, all of the books in this room have charms against physical damage on them."

"… _You're_ offering me access to your personal library?"

"The books in this room, _only_. And only while you are here in this house."

Potter nodded. "Got it." He stood and started scanning the shelves. "Any recommendations?"

Severus smirked, thought for a moment, then softly answered, "Smythe's _Introduction To Antidotes_. Since I've heard _so_ much about what happened that day in Horace's classroom."

Potter blushed to his ears. "Um, sorryaboutthatsir."

 _Well, well. He finally started admitting it._ "And what happened to the book?" The numbing potion relived enough of the pain that he could get a proper threatening edge to his voice.

Potter outright flinched. "Room Of Requirement. The version of it that, urm, well…"

"Ashes?"

"Ashes."

Severus sighed. _At least no one else can stumble on my notes from that school year again._

Sixth year. The year after his friendship with Lily had finally fractured for good, the year before Lily's relationship with James Potter had made Severus be more careful with where and what he did against the Marauders.

The year he'd been far enough ahead of his lab partners in potions to draft spells during class. Seventh year he'd been far enough ahead to draft potions of his own.

"I can replace the book…"

"I already had another copy. The notes were what was valuable. And, given the uses to which you put them, it's likely best it doesn't fall into anyone else's hands." Severus met Potter's gaze. "Now, the deception about your own abilities…"

"I'm sorry."

"Potter, only OWL and NEWT marks count once you leave Hogwarts. Your greatest offense was against your own education."

Potter looked down at his feet. "So I guess that means you aren't going to let me sit the Potions NEWT."

" _Au contraire, Monsieur_ Potter."

He looked up again.

"I'm going to _make_ you sit it. After I make sure the damage done by my leaving that textbook lying about is fixed."

"Professor, I haven't more than touched a cauldron in over a year now…"

Severus smirked again. "Which is why you won't be spending your final year of NEWT preparation studying Potions in the classroom setting."

Potter eyed him warily. He was well-acquainted with the expression and needed no help to interpret it. "You're talking about private lessons."

Severus smiled at him, artificially wide and intentionally predatory.

He have to be more serious once the school year began, but Potter deserved Severus having a bit of fun at his expense after what he'd pulled with that textbook.

"With you?"

Still smiling, Severus nodded at him.

Potter seemed to think for a moment. "And things would stay changed between us?"

Severus looked at him, confused. He didn't understand what the point of reference was.

"The way things have been since the battle, I mean," Potter clarified. "Like it is now. Like it was when you told me all those things about Mum in the Hospital Wing."

Severus nodded solemnly.

 _How could things ever go back to how they were before I knew you could show compassion to someone you thought an enemy who was, so you also thought, dying?_

That, and the bit of surface legilimency he'd been able to manage at the time, had been what finally let Severus see that the boy's personality was more than just an inheritance from his father.

"So, _Introduction To Antidotes_ …"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_.

* * *

Chapter 8

It was actually a rather comfortable rest of the afternoon.

Potter stayed quiet except for a few times he asked a question.

Rather than giving him answers, Severus kept directing him to other books.

Potter didn't complain about it, and Severus was _almost_ certain it was because the younger wizard understood the need to rest his voice.

That wasn't Severus' actual goal in doing it.

 _He's going to figure out how to do proper library research, whether he realizes that's what he's doing or not._

It had not escaped Severus' notice that Potter's sources on papers beyond the required textbooks always seemed to be the same as Granger used. Not enough to ever suspect cheating, but enough that Severus was very sure Potter was borrowing the books his friend had already checked out for the same assignment.

Which meant, of course, that there was little chance of him finding a secondary source for anything that confused him but she had grasped intuitively, despite the Hogwarts library containing at least one copy of every major introductory or intermediate potions text ever written in English, along with a reasonably broad selection of advanced texts covering many overlapping content areas.

If the official textbook was failing him in theoretical knowledge, Potter _should_ have been able to find at least _an_ author who explained the background material in a manner accessible to him. If not five or ten.

Severus was intentionally sending him to authors with wildly different styles whose books were in the Hogwarts library, and then quietly observing which books frustrated him. After years of teaching him in lectures and labs, a frustrated Harry Potter was something Severus could spot across a crowded room without legilimency.

And then, just before dinner, Potter got up to search the shelves without asking for so much as a recommendation, pulled down a book, and settled back in his seat on the sofa with a book intended for revisiting basic potions concepts by those with some lab experience.

A year ago, Severus would have clapped sarcastically, even with the use of his voice.

Now, he settled for a smirk that Potter didn't even seem to notice.

 _And that would be yet another victory for Slytherin cunning,_ he thought.

* * *

Potter was a quarter of the way into the book and Severus was nearly half asleep from the combination of actually resting without a house-elf or professor or Ministry official bothering him every ten minutes, the rain softly pattering against the windows, and the sound of the turning pages when Winky stuck her head into the sitting room from the kitchen.

"Dinner is ready, sirs."

Severus stretched and yawned.

He'd been right about the rest of the roast. Combined with a few vegetable sides cobbled together from odd bits in the cabinets, it made quite the cozy little feast.

Potter looked increasingly uncomfortable as the meal went on in silence.

Severus finally had mercy and told him, "Just because I'm resting my voice doesn't mean you have to."

"Yes, but I can't say anything that needs a response, can I?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. Potter actually wanted to ask a hopefully reasonable question for once?

"I had to leave things behind at Privet Drive."

He nodded. He'd been in the group of Death Eaters who ransacked the house after the battle in the air and knew perfectly well that Potter's potions kit had not been packed.

"So I'm going to need to replace quite a bit of it. I can afford to, that's not an issue, but buying the same basic potions supplies as a first-year would over again for seventh year NEWT prep seems wrong."

Severus shook his head. "Exam equipment is supplied. You'll need familiarity."

"So I should use the same equipment as I'll be tested with? And it's the same as for the OWLs?"

He nodded again. "Why the interest?" Severus had never considered Potter the sort to brew after leaving school unless he was absolutely forced to. _Probably safer for the planet that way._

"Well, sir," he started, staring at his peas, "when Professor Slughorn isn't trying to collect me or act like I've inherited skill in the lab from Mum, and you aren't, well..."

"Waiting for the least reason to take points?"

He blushed. "Right. Or acting like I'm Dad all over again. When that's not going on -- and granted, that was only when I took my OWLs, I knew better than to brew when you or Slughorn or another Potions Master wasn't around to notice when I'd created something dangerous -- well, I wouldn't quite call it enjoyable, but maybe if it hadn't been an exam?"

 _That_ was an intriguing announcement, and Severus decided the line of questioning had gone on long enough. If he wasn't careful, one of his few currently active plots was going to be a lot less satisfying when it came to fruition. "Don't worry about buying your school supplies until the letters go out, Potter. I'll enclose a list of what potions books you'll be expected to have available."

Severus coughed. The numbing potion was already beginning to wear off. It wasn't unexpected -- eating and drinking was certainly enough to disturb whatever remnant of it was still clinging to his throat and providing delayed relief -- but it certainly was not welcome.

Potter must have picked up on the pain, because the next time he spoke was after they had both finished eating. "My compliments to Winky on her cooking, Professor, and my thanks for your hospitality."

There was a barely muffled squeal that sounded as though it came from just out of sight.

"Over half the Order would have come after me had I left you outside in the rain for the night," Severus softly teased, hoping Potter would at least know by now that he would never actually have done such a thing.

"I could have just Apparated once I found someplace secluded enough."

 _Apparently not._ "And you'd have likely gotten pneumonia first. Or Splinched yourself. Or put yourself into shock trying to dry off and warm up, since it appears everyone has failed to warn you about that particular danger."

Potter's face flushed, and even Severus could tell it had been the wrong thing to say.

 _Damn._ He needed legilimency badly, but he needed his remaining magical strength to heal and to occlude the pain even more. A quick spell here and there was one thing, but trying to manage a conversation with Potter that wasn't on clearly neutral factual ground to begin with...

"Sir?" Potter asked.

 _I should not be an open book like this._

"Sir, it's already past sunset. I know you came home to rest, and if you need me to just get out of your hair and camp out on the sofa with that book for the rest of the evening I'll be glad to. It's really interesting, and I think that lab explosion Neville caused just before Easter Holiday third year makes a _lot_ more sense now."

"The one where he overdiced the fennel?" Severus rasped weakly.

"That's the one. And he threw it all in at once. That was probably four, maybe five times the expected reactive surface in a fraction of the time, wasn't it? So the resulting gas exploded out violently instead of gradually bubbling out like it was supposed to."

Severus clapped.

"I got that right? I actually got something right about Potions without having to study for hours first?"

Severus nodded, smirking. "Indeed. Maybe the lessons this coming year will not go as poorly as I had anticipated," he whispered.

Damn, he _did_ need to take Potter up on that offer, even if it meant doing nothing but reading to stay awake until midnight.

Potter pushed his chair back and stood. "I _am_ sorry I landed on your doorstep like this, Sir. Goodnight."

Severus followed him out, and while Potter was apparently settling in on the sofa for the night with a pillow and blankets Winky had deposited there while the wizards were eating he pulled a few more volumes, all basic research materials Potter might need to properly understand the later chapters, from the shelves and put them at arms-reach on a table.

Potter glanced at the titles for a moment. "Thank you."

Severus nodded, made absolutely sure Potter knew the difference between the door to the water closet and the door to the linen closet, and went upstairs.

He didn't bother checking the time until he entered his own bedroom.

Only a little past nine o'clock.

"Winky," he mumbled, grateful that house-elves were called mainly by need and intent and not volume.

She popped into the room. "Master needs his Winky?"

He nodded. "That tea you made me after the incident with the sword cabinet. The one with the honey in it," he whispered.

Damn, it was getting even worse.

She nodded, wide-eyed.

"Do you think it would help?"

She nodded even harder. "Winky will be making Master his tea. And Master should be getting in his bed and letting his Winky take care of him!"

There was an odd sound from downstairs, as if Potter had heard and decided listening to the most dreaded professor at Hogwarts be managed by a house-elf was amusing.

Winky reached for her ears, but Severus caught her hands. "No, Winky," he rasped.

She popped out of his grasp, and a moment later he could hear quiet noises in the kitchen.

The pain-killing potion was already waiting on top of Winky's cabinet even though he had another three hours to wait.

Another three hours to keep himself awake.

At least the counters to the Cruciatus Curse didn't have to be so delicately spaced. At least there was a known progression of healing that he could consult himself to know if something was going wrong after he'd been cruciated.

 _And even the worst torture I ever received at the end of his wand would have long been faded by now._

Severus rummaged through a box in the back of his closet, a box he hadn't touched since Christmas holiday the previous school year. The last year he'd been a regular professor.

A box he'd told the Dark Lord he'd destroy the next time he came across it. So he'd made sure he didn't come across it.

Books. Most of them poorly made paperbacks, as in the wizarding world self-publishing meant casting the binding spells yourself or finding a friend to do it for you and these had all been produced under _nom de plumes_.

Because it wouldn't do for the more bigoted purebloods to find out just who the authors of wizarding 'Muggles And Magic Together In Harmony' fantasy fiction were.

Charity had found him a good foil to discuss such things with, as he was perfectly willing and, thanks to his background, capable of pointing out plot holes and complete impossibilities her wizarding-raised pureblooded self couldn't have hoped to see.

And if it had looked like a Death Eater spy railing unsuccessfully at the Muggle Studies professor and the Muggle Studies professor trying and failing at converting a known Death Eater to the cause of blood equality, so much the better for his cover.

But Severus suspected now it was one of the reasons the Dark Lord had arranged his presence at her execution, and knew for a fact it was the reason he'd been asked just what he had done with the books after that meeting.

He'd kept his word, his life, and his literary stockpile through careful wording and action.

He turned the fragile volumes over carefully, seeking a name.

The thing about discussing works written under _nom de plumes_ is that someone always defends their own work the hardest.

Severus knew of at least three names Charity had likely used and there was one he was absolutely certain of. And that, under that name, there was one trilogy she had been particularly proud of.

Revisiting it would be a good distraction from the pain and a good reminder of just the world she had wished could be.

 _As if we aren't going to be lucky to have even one suitable person interested in the post. Ah, there they are._

He smirked even through the renewed feeling of mourning.

 _How she ever thought the name Cherry Blackfriar was a good cover, I will never understand..._

There was a gentle _pop_ behind him. "Tea, sir!"

As he settled in with her book and his tea, Severus knew the fact he'd waxed nostalgic for the days of writhing on the ground under an Unforgiveable Curse was a bad sign.


	9. Chapter 9

Severus was nearly ready to go downstairs, Floo-call Aberforth, and tell him that a revenge-killing under the guise of providing a merciful death was currently very available (and that if he wasn't willing to do that, being hexed so badly he wouldn't be conscious for a few weeks would do nicely as well) when he heard the rustling downstairs.

Which was, blissfully enough for him, followed by Winky sticking her head out of the cabinet. "'Tis midnight, Sir."

He lunged for the vial.

The rustling was still going on when the potion finally gave him relief a few moments later.

No surprise. Potter had claimed he would be reading before going to sleep and the sofa downstairs was not the most comfortable in the world by a very long shot. It might take him a while to settle in properly, or at least to figure out which configuration of armrest, pillow, and head was the least objectionable.

Severus wished he could have offered the guest room, but it hadn't been cleaned out since last summer, other things had been more pressing while Kingsley had been here to help with spellwork, Potter probably didn't know the required spells, Severus was too drained for it, and hell if he were going to offer Lily's boy a room -- a _bed!_ \-- Wormtail had occupied without damn well magically _fumigating_ it properly first!

Severus shook his head. It wasn't worth it to lie to himself about such things.

_I'll be destroying the linens, pillows, and mattress entirely and replacing them completely before I'll let Potter know that guest room exists._

And he would be telling Potter it existed, he realized, if only because Lily's son needed know where he was welcome to flee to, should there ever come a time it was needed. He owned Grimmauld Place outright -- Severus knew that -- but with Lupin and Black gone neither of them could provide a refuge and given what had happened...

Well, there was no chance Potter would flee to the Burrow if he felt in danger. Not with the way Molly had become, so far as Severus could tell, a surrogate mother-figure. She was the sister of two legendary Aurors and a dangerous duelist in her own right, but Potter wouldn't put her safety in jeopardy intentionally, not if there were any other options left to him.

And having an idea how Potter had spent the last year, Severus thought he might well flee alone into the wild before he'd risk Molly's safety.

Given what he was dwelling on, it wasn't surprising that Severus immediately recognized the next sound that came from downstairs.

Not the thrashing that the rustling suddenly grew into. Given what Potter had been through, he no doubt had the material for hundreds of garden variety nightmares -- and, by now, experience dealing with them on his own.

No. The vocalizations that accompanied it.

Which, if the tone were raised to that of a voice that hadn't even heard a rumor of puberty yet and adjusted as well to account for the natural restraint of sleep, matched something Severus knew far too well.

Even if he'd only heard it during waking hours once.

Severus immediately thrust a hand down in front of Winky's cabinet, almost without having to think through the action at all. "Get me downstairs," he whispered.

A moment later, he was sitting on the floor beside the sofa and Potter was almost hitting him in the face, thrashing blindly.

And he was crying out softly, as he often did in Severus' nightmares of that horrible night.

Severus grabbed his wrists, holding him still. "Potter, you are not there. That was a long time ago. You are not there," he rasped.

After a few minutes of softly repeating that as Potter struggled to get his hands loose, the younger wizard stopped fighting and the sound and manner of his weeping changed to something more fitting for an _adult_.

"Do you remember where you are, now?" Severus asked quietly as he let go of Potter's wrists.

"Your house, in Spinner's End in Cokeworth." Potter scrubbed at his eyes, clearly trying to force himself to calm down because Severus knew no other reason for that gesture. "And he's gone."

 _Six years of classes, never bothering to hide when he was angry or frustrated, never bothering with a hint of emotional control even in a working potions laboratory, and he tamps down_ this _?_

"Potter," he growled, "you _did_ look at _all_ the memories I gave you, correct?"

He nodded warily.

"Then what in Merlin's name would make you think you need to hide grief at what happened that night in _my_ house?"

Potter looked at him oddly for a moment, still clearly trying to stop the residual tears.

And then he simply collapsed. _As if he finally feels safe doing it. What did Minerva and Tuney teach him?_

Severus put a hand on his shoulder.

Even that didn't make a difference. After a few minutes, Potter still hadn't begun calming back down.

Hiding grief even in safety was one thing. Losing all control of emotions was, at least to Severus' Slytherin attitude towards the world, as bad if not worse.

And it was nearly unbearable to watch.

Finally Severus muttered, "I should have done this sixteen years ago," and pulled the weeping young wizard towards him.

Severus flinched, quite involuntarily, when Potter buried his face in his shoulder and threw an arm around him, even though that was exactly what Severus had presumed would happen.

Potter stiffened.

Severus uneasily patted his back. "Physical contact and I do not 'get on'," he forced himself to jest. "So do not expect this to _ever_ be repeated."

Potter relaxed, still crying, and a few moments later pulled away, dabbing at his eyes. "You sound like hell, Professor."

"I feel like hell," he admitted.

There was an uneasy silence as Winky delivered a glass of water to Potter before disappearing again.

"I _am_ sorry, Potter."

"I believed you when you told me that at Hogwarts, sir." He nearly seemed surprised that Severus hadn't believed _him_ when he'd accepted, and Severus supposed he had a right to be.

One of many problems with inter-house relations: those outside Slytherin who failed to recognize when they were in a position where a particular member of the house would not use cunning and guile _against_ them and often only for them with their explicit knowledge or being so intentionally obvious that it would take a particularly thick-headed Gryffindor or Hufflepuff to miss it. _And since the Dark Lord was the sort to never form those relationships or respect those others had, that has only gotten worse in the last half century._

"I meant for not seeing to you that night."

Potter shook his head and fumbled for his glasses. "I've seen your memories of that night, remember? You didn't notice me."

"For which I am _trying_ to..."

Potter cut him off. "No, that's not what I meant. You didn't _notice_ me. I didn't start crying until after you were in the room, and when you came through the doorway I don't think you really saw anything after you found Mum." He put his glasses on and checked the clock on the wall. "It's really only one o'clock?"

"It wasn't long after midnight when you cried out."

Potter grabbed his wand and summoned the pad of paper and quill from across the room.

Severus took them from him and turned the table lamp on. Potter drained the glass while he wrote. "You spent all day thinking about your mother. No surprise you would have nightmares about what happened after dragging it to the front of your mind. My apologies if the memories I shared provided material."

"They didn't," Potter assured him. "Not beyond a framework to understand things I already..."

Potter trailed off as Severus stared at him. "You remember," he whispered, horrified.

There had been discussions for years in corners at Order meetings and in the Hogwarts staffroom, from even before the letters went out in 1991.

Would Harry Potter remember anything? 

_Could_ Harry Potter remember anything? 

He'd only been a year old -- a year and three months to the day, Minerva had reminded them over and over. Children didn't usually remember anything before two and a half or three.

But children of one or two didn't often have the sorts of experiences that would produce strong clear memories, the opposing viewpoint had argued. Having at least one parent murdered in front of you, much less _surviving_ the Killing Curse, was exactly that kind of experience.

Severus and Poppy had argued once the school year had begun that Potter obviously didn't remember. He hadn't been one of the mere handful of first years each year who arrived already seeing thestrals. He did not see thestrals, therefore he had clearly not processed Lily's death in a way that had 'stuck'.

And therefore he obviously _didn't_ remember.

By the time the Chamber Of Secrets had been opened, Severus and Poppy had won everyone else over. Potter ought to be treated as any other child who had lost parents early enough for his primary caregiver bonding to be to his living caregivers, the same as if they had died or been functionally destroyed away from him, as had been the case with Longbottom at about the same age. 

While there was still a dispute about what that treatment ought to be, no one on the Hogwarts staff had considered treating Potter as a witness to murder -- anyone's murder -- from the time his second year began until Diggory was killed. No need to explain the reasons why to new staff, just tell them that Potter was not to be treated as a witness.

Only clearly Potter _had_ remembered something, enough for him to recognize the pieces in a completed memory formed by an adult. And Severus had been the loudest voice arguing that precisely that was entirely impossible.

_I was a damn fool and deceived myself again. Only looked for evidence that he couldn't have remembered, because it would have been too much if Lily's boy had memories of her death, and disregarded everything else._

_Such as the simple fact a child too young to understand death in abstract can still be old enough to form memories that linger into adulthood!_

"Professor?"

"What do you remember?" he wrote.

"Sirius' motorbike, but I don't know if it was him or Hagrid driving it." Potter took a deep breath and averted his gaze. He put the glass on the table, clearly trying to use it for a few seconds' of delay. "And the green flash when he tried to kill me."

Severus gasped.

Potter flinched. "And when I'm near dementors..." He trailed off.

"go on!"

"I hear her," he whispered. "That's why Remus had to teach me how to cast a patronus third year. I'm like a four-course five-star dinner to them, apparently."

Severus stood shakily. "stay here" he requested.

It was a small matter to stand at the bottom of the stairs and summon a vial from the little cache that had once been in Winky's cabinet. He walked back into the sitting room and put it on the table beside the sofa. "Dreamless Sleep," he wrote. "6 hr dose, enough for rest of night. Use sparingly and rarely -- long-term side effects!"

"What kind of side-effects? I've had it before, but I don't remember reading about it."

"Seventh year potion. Same side-effects as losing REM (dreaming) sleep to other causes -- eventually hallucinations and insanity, if deprivation occurs for long enough. Not dreaming = not safe."

"So taking this would be like if I just stayed up until tomorrow night?"

"Except you will have rested and not have a reason to feel tired. Combined effect -- deceptively dangerous."

"So a night or two is okay, but not longer and not often."

Severus nodded.

Potter picked the vial up and stared at it. "Can we talk a little more before I drink this? Since I'll be guaranteed no nightmares?"

"Oh?"

"About me not wanting to be an Auror. Can I tell you why now?"

Severus nodded and put a hand on his shoulder again. _If he wants the protection of Dreamless Sleep..._

"I don't want to fight like that again. I don't want to have to see those _things_ again. I have better battle reflexes than some Aurors twice my age, and no one seems to see that as a sign something is wrong even though I haven't been through their training and being a Seeker can't explain a third of it. I threw you across the room in class for pulling a wand on me in a demonstration, and no one seemed to care that a sixth year had just acted like Mad-Eye!"

"Potter..." he breathed.

"And I know you and everyone else just wrote it off as me finally hexing you, even though it was a Shield Charm, but what if that had been the DA or if there had still been a Dueling Club? You're an adult, twice my age, at least three times the experience: you could defend yourself. But what if it had been Nigel or one of the second years? I'd just found out I was a danger to other people, and everyone in the school was acting like it was the natural progression of the way things were between us."

"We can try to work on that this year," Severus whispered.

Potter nodded. "Thanks. I mean it, really. I scare myself sometimes now. But that's not all. I... I can't... If there were another dark wizard rising to power, yes I'd fight. But the things I've seen..."

"I was the first person you'd seen die the hard way, wasn't I?" Severus wrote.

He was crying again. "And it was hard enough thinking you were an enemy. If an ally... I'd be worthless in the field. And if anyone tried to defend me and... He was right, you know, I can't _stand_ people getting hurt for my sake."

"Shh. Potter..."

No response.

" _Harry._ "

The younger wizard looked up in surprise.

"Not even her majesty the queen herself can order a man to give of his life for his country _twice_ ," he whispered. "Nor any other who has ever held that throne. Nor the prime minister, nor Parliament, nor any other person be they magic or Muggle. _No one_." He patted his shoulder. "Go back to sleep; we can talk more in the morning."

Potter uncorked the vial and drank, then quickly settled down. "Night, Professor," he mumbled with his eyes already shut.

Severus stood, pulled Potter's glasses off and laid them on the table, put the empty vial and cork beside them, and tucked the blankets a bit more firmly around his shoulders.

_What have we done to your son, Lily?_

He made his way upstairs to his own bed.

With any luck, he'd get a few hours of rest before it was time for another potion.


	10. Morning

All was lost, and Severus knew it as surely as he knew he was dying.

Potter didn't know. He hadn't been able to pass on Albus' final message to the boy.

He had been taking a variation of the antivenin that had saved Arthur Weasley, modified for long-term use, for over a year. The potion was working -- if it hadn't, he'd have mercifully lost consciousness for the last time by now.

But the venom wasn't what was killing him.

It was the blood loss.

Multiple bite locations, and the two his hands had drifted to were wet enough that he was sure they were enough to kill on their own.

He closed his eyes and tried to occlude away the pain, fear, and shame.

He had failed.

Small hands shook a shoulder. "Time for Master's potion," Winky told him. "'Tis nearly six o'clock."

The pain from the bites on his body had disappeared when he woke, nothing more than a very tangible memory.

The pain at his throat had actually intensified, with no shock to insulate his mind from it now.

For the first time since the second time he woke in the Hospital Wing, Severus was truly terrified.

Six o'clock. Numbing potion, not the full painkiller.

"get help" he signed.

"Master means Madam Poppy?"

"yes"

Winky _popped_ away.

She was back a moment later. "Madam Poppy is coming, Sir."

He grasped handfuls of the sheets in his hands and closed his eyes.

Winky was gone and back in a moment, and then there was a wet cloth on his face, dabbing at him.

He opened his eyes and tried to flash his gratitude to her through them before letting his eyelids close again.

It was a marvelous focus for occlusion.

He heard the Floo in his sitting room _whoosh_.

The sitting room his best friend's orphan son was currently in hour four or five of a six-hour drugged sleep in.

_Damn._

Rushed steps on the stairs.

"Severus Snape, what is Harry Potter doing on your sofa!?"

He forced himself to untangle his hands. "sleeping"

"I could see that," she bit out as she cast some diagnostic spells. "You've been talking."

_I couldn't avoid it!_

"Too much, too early. And were you hiding your pain levels when you left my care again?"

He couldn't hide it from her.

He could never hide it from here, not once she'd caught him at it.

At least it was a reaction that couldn't have killed him in the Dark Lord's service.

Winky was still attending to his brow when Poppy started giving him potions.

A pain potion first, then less familiar healing potinos.

He tried to say "thank you" but _couldn't_.

Severus glared at her.

"It's just a simple healing paralysis, Severus. It will start wearing off in two days. It shouldn't interfere with breathing, drinking, or eating."

She passed him a Muggle pad of paper and a Muggle ballpoint.

"Potter was looking for where Lily grew up, but everything has changed and her neighborhood is gone now. He got lost and managed to miss the last train back to London. He couldn't find a place to Apparate from without Muggles seeing him do it, and ended up wandering down my street. The Muggles know he's here, Lily's son, and that I'm supposed to bring him to the train station today."

"You're in no state for it." Her flat voice left no room for argument.

Severus knew how to read her in full healer mode from very long practice.

It was nearly comforting to have company he didn't have to strain to fully understand without magical aid.

"Then we need a cover story for him lingering. I don't obliviate my neighbors if I can help it."

"You could just draw him a map," she suggested. "He _is_ an adult."

 _To us,_ Severus thought. _And on the battlefield._

But not to the Muggles. Not until the end of July.

And with the Dark Lord dead and most of the Death Eaters either slain or in Azkaban, Potter had clearly been viewed as Out of Danger even by his spell-shocked self

"I promised him!" he wrote, leaving everything else out. He had to show Potter what bits of Lily's life were left before the younger wizard departed Cokeworth.

Poppy occupied her hands setting out later doses of the potions. "And he can't just disappear?"

"no!"

She flinched.

"Scandal, years ago." He wrote quickly, trusting that even failed grammar would be good enough. "Teacher, at the state primary school. He's still in prison."

Poppy blanched.

"Everyone in the area is still on alert, because there were missed signs something was very wrong. They know I'm headmaster now. If Potter were younger or the relationship more distant I wouldn't have dared. But the Muggles remember Lily."

Poppy nodded. "We need a plan, then."

He thought for a moment. "Not until Potter can help decide what we do."

There were, after all, ways of getting him out of Cokeworth anyway, mainly by having someone like Arthur Weasley show up by completely Muggle means and escort Potter elsewhere. And, given the events of the previous night, there were reasons Potter might even _want_ to stay if it meant more information about his mother or a better idea of what their private Potions lessons might look like once term began again.

 _He_ deserves _a chance to decide for himself just where he spends his readjustment to the everyday world._

Severus heard Winky wring out the cloth.

Poppy patted his shoulder. "Rest for now, then." But then she asked, "Why did you drug him, anyway?"

"Nightmare. Bad one. I decided to show a bit of mercy. He has another hour, maybe two."

He set the pen down with as much finality as he could muster, knowing the rest was his and Potter's business and _only_ their business.

And besides, Poppy didn't _need_ to know that they had been wrong for so many years about just how much a one-year-old babe could remember.


	11. The Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't originally planned this story to be so firmly set in the movie-verse - for one thing, DH2 hadn't come out yet when I started posting chapters - but the way DH2 handled Snape gave me plot bunnies for how the changes between the movies and books would affect the aftermath, plot bunnies that fit in with where I'd already planned on taking The Hard Part. I'm still going to use the books as references for things the movies didn't touch on, and I'm obviously using the book versions of anything that involved Winky and the other house elves, but the Battle Of Hogwarts definitely happened the movie way for purposes of this story.

It was a long wait for Potter to wake downstairs.

Then the yawn. The sound of a confused teenager falling off the sofa. Clearly audible fumbling for glasses.

And then the house was still and quiet again.

Dangerously quiet, and as a Slytherin Severus knew the feel of it well.

And then, it hit him.

He'd told Potter that the Dreamless Sleep operated on a defined time table. And that his own painkillers, both of them, did as well.

A member of Slytherin in such a situation would always drug the interloper for longer than he himself planned to sleep, and from how they had parted earlier this morning Potter had every reason to presume Severus was planning on being in the sitting room, kitchen, or neighboring loo by the time he woke up.

Which meant Harry Potter knew something had gone wrong somehow and was trying to figure out what.

Severus raised a finger to his lips before writing "Did you leave ashes on the carpet?"

Poppy nodded once.

The bottom step on the stairs creaked, very slowly.

Severus grabbed his wand and cast a quick shielding charm over the doorframe, just in case.

There was creaking on the landing now, and clear uncertainty in the lack of further audible movement.

The doors to the bedrooms and hidden stairs to the magically added extra level of the house all looked roughly alike from the outside and Potter had never been upstairs here.

There was no more movement.

Poppy rolled her eyes but remained quiet, clearly aware that Severus was up to something.

He heard Potter's breathing hitch and knew he'd made a mistake.

A house silent except for himself, where he knew other beings should be moving around and making the casual sounds of living, should rightly be one of Potter's oldest and most vivid terrors.

And Severus had just created a variant of it unwittingly.

He intentionally dropped the pad and pen on the floor.

Potter was through the door with a drawn wand not more than 15 seconds later, horror in his eyes.

It took a long moment of hard breathing for Potter to calm down enough for Poppy to explain what had happened.

Potter finally smiled grimly. "I told you that you sounded horrible."

Severus smirked at him. It was unsteady ground, but relatively friendly, and without the need to occlude pain away the stress of interpreting without legilimency was manageable.

"So, what's the plan for getting me out of here? You can't take me to the station yourself, Professor. Not when you're like this. Nothing Muggle causes that kind of vocal paralysis. You'd be hard pressed not to break secrecy if you go out of the house."

Poppy's face blanched.

Severus chuckled at her. He knew from idle conversation in the staffroom that Slytherin was the only house the Sorting Hat hadn't considered placing her in for even a second. It was just like her to completely miss a need for quiet that wasn't linked directly to medical record release laws.

Once Potter had handed him the writing materials again, he wrote "I wanted your input about that, actually."

"Can you and Winky take care of you alone?" Potter asked very seriously.

Before he or Winky could respond, Poppy muttered, "The hell you can."

Severus rolled his eyes. But she was right, much as he hated needing to admit it.

They needed another human. For errands to the grocer, if nothing else.

Errands that were themselves _required_ to keep secrecy.

Severus nodded. "Until the paralysis wears off, at the least."

"Easy then. I stay."

Severus stared at him.

"They all knew Mum well enough that at least some of them know I'll be turning 18 soon?" Potter asked.

Severus nodded, somewhat intrigued. It was going to be interesting to see just what the young Gryffindor's logic was.

"And your neighbor across the street knows I was wandering the countryside completely on my own?"

He nodded. _And Agnes will have spread the word around the neighborhood by now._

"Well, I'd been thinking. And after everything, and since I'm not welcome under my uncle's roof ever again, well I'm nearly out of family and family friends I can turn to for things."

Poppy sighed. "No, Mr. Potter, there are plenty..."

"No, there aren't. Not who would have done if I weren't Harry Potter, Professional Orphan."

Severus felt as though he had just been slapped, but he knew it was true, that it was exactly that who Albus had required Potter to be.

The Boy Who Lived... Because Someone Else Hadn't.

"And I know Molly and Mum were friends in the Order, but I can't ask her for anything right now. Not while she's trying to fix everyone in her own family."

Severus nodded again. The Weasleys needed time to adapt and heal. He didn't even know if Ronald was coming back to Hogwarts or not.

"Which pretty much leaves you, Professor."

It was the same analysis that Severus had done himself the previous evening, so he had no way or even desire to argue with it. In fact, it might even be beneficial in a way that Potter had figured it out on his own. It certainly showed he was capable of discerning between different groups of allies and when he could ask things of them.

Poppy, however, could argue. "What do you mean? You can't possibly believe no one else would be willing to..."

Severus struck the bed hard enough Winky was startled into disapparating.

"It's not an issue of being willing. He means required. People who have to let him in when he knocks on the door."

Poppy rolled her eyes as she passed the pad to Potter.

After he'd read it, Potter continued. "So, since they think I won't be coming of age until July, and they know I was wandering and that you're a family friend as well as one of my teachers, it might not seem so odd if you offered me a place to stay for a little while. I'm old enough to be trusted with a lot of things even under Muggle law now, and I could help out here. We could just tell them that you had a bit of a turn back for the worse, not enough to go back to hospital but enough that some help would be a good idea, and if you've said anything at all about how I do in your subject none of them would doubt a bit of summer tutoring would be a reasonable exchange for it. It wouldn't even be lying for me to tell them my relatives didn't want guardianship of me anymore. We could just say you found out while talking with me yesterday about why I'd gotten lost so far from home, and offered."

He could keep the lad reading, discover more about what damage the year on the run had wrought, and it would keep either of them from being isolated when they absolutely shouldn't be. House elves were no replacements for having other humans around.

Besides, Potter was using Slytherin logic and Severus was at a complete loss for where he ever would have picked it up. There was a mystery there, and he wanted answers.

And Severus had, if he let himself admit it, about as thin a support system as Potter, even with his current position in the Wizarding World.

"Mr. Potter, if you think for a moment he'll..."

Severus grabbed for the pad.

There was no question about it, and hadn't he been considering offering Potter lodgings this very morning, even before he'd offered to help out in return? Even before he'd been awake?

"I accept."


	12. Chapter 12

It took forever for Poppy to leave, even after she'd written down the new potion regimen in triplicate and gone over it with both wizards and Winky twice and Winky had gone off to take stock of the kitchen supplies again.

The moment Poppy had gone downstairs and Severus heard her enter the Floo, Potter seemed to finally take in exactly where he was and that Severus was still in his nightshirt.

"Uh, sir, sorry about barging in..."

Severus raised an eyebrow. Under normal British magical etiquette, he'd done the right thing.

"I mean, it's not my place to..."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Potter, you did everything right. In an emergency or an attack, a guest is supposed to come to his host's aid. If I did not want you coming in here if you thought something was wrong, I would have warded the door against you last night."

It took long enough to write it that Potter walked over and started reading practically over his shoulder before he was done.

He glanced over at him, and recognized the classical look of utter confusion on Potter's face.

"what?"

"I'm just a bit surprised you'd trust me that much."

_A bit?_ "I was on the ground in front of you, completely helpless. You thought I was one of your worst enemies. The only witnesses were your closest friends. If you were ever going to intentionally physically harm me, that was the time for it.  You dropped your wand."

"Hexing someone who's helpless isn't exactly the Gryffin..." Potter trailed off before Severus could even start to glare at him. "You have a point, sir."

Severus smirked and nodded in response.

It was as good as he was ever likely to get out of the young man. A full repudiation of the father who'd given his life in an attempt to protect him was completely out of the question, and even a partial would rub against the places where the younger Potter had clearly inherited tendencies from the elder.

Tendencies and not much else, aside from his appearance, Severus had been forced to realize over the past weeks.

"I need to let Kreacher and the Weasleys know where I am," Potter said after a moment.

The mention of the other house elf gave Severus an idea. "Caring for me now is going to take everything Winky can manage."

"Do you think she would be alright with it if Kreacher came here?"

"She would if we frame it correctly, and it would seem less insulting to her than if you were trying to do the cooking."

"What framing?"

"The Crouches were respectable, but not one of the ancient houses. Kreacher, meanwhile, served the Blacks, including a period of time when there were some complex social situations to be managed. Working with him for a few weeks would be a good learning experience for her, and it will also give Kreacher time around another house elf."

Potter grinned. "He needs that, desperately." The grin faded. "A few weeks?"

"I presumed you were offering or, rather, asking to stay until almost your birthday. I'll arrange getting some of your things here with Minerva later - a decoy trunk at the very least, so the Muggles have an explanation for you having personal belongings here - if you want me to handle that particular headache. Minerva's passed as a Muggle before. Freshening charms to your clothes should hold you until tomorrow."

"George..."

"Not after what happened to his ear."

Potter sighed. "He _knows_ you were aiming somewhere else."

"In terms of secrecy. A missing ear healed that cleanly is hard to explain. I was only able to tell the partial truth about my own recent injuries because my neighbors have known me my whole life as 'our Toby's strange son, to whom strange things happen'. And I need to 'talk' to Minerva anyway."

Winky popped into the room. "Winky has made the list, sirs."

Severus nodded towards Potter.

"Winky, since the headmaster needs such close attention right now, I'd like to ask Kreacher to come here while I'm in residence. He's spent so much time on his own with no one to take care of that I don't fancy leaving him with nothing to do but dust and polish."

Winky seemed uneasy.

"I don't doubt your abilities, Winky. Nor does the headmaster. But I don't want my presence here to take anything away from his care."

"Winky would be serving beside an elf of the house of Black?" she finally squeaked.

Severus nodded.

It was a simple matter then to call for Kreacher and have all four of them collaborate on what the list for the grocer needed to be.

It made the house elves uncomfortable in a way to have their masters so closely involved in the matters of the kitchen, but it eased enough for Severus to detect after Potter carefully explained that the list for his trip to the grocer needed to not break secrecy by revealing that the house elves also needed to be fed. The Muggles had to believe there were only two humans in the house, and no one else.

The volumes discussed dropped quickly enough, with the reduction added to a list for Wizarding shopping later - probably by Minerva or Potter, since Severus didn't trust the delivery services at the moment or near his home or Floo - that Severus considered it a confirmation of his long-held suspicion that house elves subsisted on table scraps and leftovers.

Potter was ready to go a few minutes after the list was finalized. After a quick review of their cover story, Severus handed him a drawn map and much of what was left of the Chunnel money. "Get the food, and if you think you can roll it down the street at the same time a camp bed as well. Everyone knows how lumpy my sofa is."

Potter tilted his head. "Where would there be room to set it up?"

Severus smiled slyly. "How good are you at vanishing and cleaning spells?"

"I helped clean Grimmauld Place, and there was that incident early sixth year in the Common Room when someone stuck mislabeled Puking Pastilles in a candy dish and the second years got into them. Why?"

"I have a guest room."

Potter's face changed, reflecting an emotion Severus couldn't identify properly. "A guest room, and I slept on the sofa. The lumpy sofa. And now a camp bed."

"hush" Severus took a moment to consider how best to phrase things. "It was after the battle at the Ministry. The Dark Lord doubted me. He set a test of my loyalty, knowing I had begged him for your mother's life - that was before I went to Dumbledore - in an attempt to buy time for you all."

"What was the test?"

"Provide housing for Wormtail without killing him. The rest of the house has been cleansed of his filth, but I couldn't risk cleaning the guest room properly until the war ended."

"So if I clean it enough that I feel comfortable about sleeping in a room the man who intentionally led Voldemort to my family lived in for months, I can stay there? And the camp bed is so the regular bed there can be vanished?"

Severus nodded.

Potter grinned. "That's fine with me. I'll be back in an hour."

"Don't be daft. You don't know the layout of the grocer's shelves." Something caught his mind. "You're being very accepting of all this."

"Don't forget, Professor: while Pettigrew was in hiding, I shared a room with him for nearly three whole school years. I fed him a few times when Ron was too busy. Ron even let him sleep on his pillow. The accidental bed linen fire when Ron got out of the Hospital Wing wasn't _exactly_ all that accidental."

"Floo Molly on your way out, Potter. Let her know where you are, and tell her to tell Minerva I need her to come to Spinner's End. If she asks, you can tell her I'm not fit to talk at the moment."

Potter nodded. "I'll do that."

He left the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Severus could hear Potter go down the stairs and use the Floo.

He couldn't make out words, but a moment or two later there were pounding footsteps coming up the stairs.

"I'm sorry, sir. I tried..."

And then Molly Weasley was coming through his bedroom door, which was not warded against her or most of the rest of the Order on a Just In Case medical emergency basis. He'd warded the entire house against them last year, and when Kingsley and he had dropped that layer of protection Severus hadn't felt a need to replace them with interior wards.

"What have you gotten yourself into now, Severus?" she asked.

Potter's tried to look around her. "Professor, I..."

Severus waved him off, and once he was gone and the door downstairs had both opened and shut Severus flipped to a clean page of the pad. "Poppy paralyzed my larynx without so much as a warning. I can't go outside without breaking secrecy."

Molly gave him a knowing smile. "You tried to hide how much pain you were in again, didn't you?"

He glared.

It wasn't something that needed answering. Molly was one of the few in the Order who had known how injured he was on a regular basis simply as part of being a spy. She knew his ways of dealing with pain.

She walked to stand beside the bed, Severus suspected so that she could read what he was writing more easily.

"I need to talk to Minerva. And I need her to get a decoy trunk here, to provide a cover for getting Potter some of his things."

"How did he end up here?"

"Trying to trace where Lily grew up. He got lost. Practically landed on my doorstep."

"I've been trying to keep him from cooping himself up in that house."

"I don't think he wants to impose on anyone."

"Impose? Eat dinner a few times a week with us, impose?" Molly was as offended as Severus could remember seeing her, ever.

"There's something going on with him." Severus thought of the locks he'd seen at Little Whinging, the signs even in an empty house stripped of everything but hardware, wallpaper, and Potter's abandoned trunk that something was very off in the Dursley household. "If I can, I'll find out what it is."

"I'd prefer he was with us, but if you can help him... Well, you _ought_ to help him, given everything you've done."

It took a few seconds for Severus to reassure himself that Molly knew nothing of his involvement in the leaking of the prophecy. She was only talking about the day to day battles in his classroom and in the halls of Hogwarts, nothing more.

"Am I right in remembering he'll be spending his birthday at your home?"

Molly nodded. "Why?"

"I have a surprise for him. You'll understand when you see it. I just need to get in your home for a moment after he's asleep and leave it for him."

"I think that can be arranged, Severus. Have you told him you're going to force him into private lessons yet?"

"Only for Potions."

"I told Ginny your plans for Defense. She says she's looking forward to finally having a Defense class with the people she fights beside. Luna's just as interested, in her way."

Severus laughed the little bit he could. Of course the younger witches would be glad to finally have a class with their friends. Lovegood didn't even share a Common Room with the others.

"Has Ronald made a decision yet?"

"George has offered him something of an apprenticeship at the shop. He's always been a better learner when there was a clear application. I think it's between that and Hogwarts now."

Severus nodded. "Either would be good for him, then. Get one of the brochures on sitting NEWT equivalencies at the Ministry for him - Minerva should have a pile in her office. Once they get the exams rewritten, he may be able to get some additional academic credentials beyond his OWLs even if he picks the apprenticeship."

Molly nodded. "That would be good. To be honest with you, Severus, I don't know how Ron would handle being in the castle again, after everything..."

Severus nodded. "And having a brother with him will be good for George. He's never"

"...been alone a day in his life before," Molly sobbed.

Severus put a hand on her arm, knowing she knew from long experience how non-demonstrative he was, and gave a little squeeze.

Molly Weasley had never lost a child, before now.

She had wanted a daughter, and got one finally, but she had never had so much as a threatened miscarriage along the way. The gap between Charlie and Percy had been her choice, not nature's - a fact Severus learned at an Order meeting once when he very much wanted to be nearly anywhere else.

The last family she'd lost had been Gideon and Fabian, the twin brothers Severus was sure she'd used as the inspiration for George and Fred's names.

_And if the Dark Lord's truce had been called two minutes later, she'd have buried two sons last month instead of one._

Not that anyone was going to tell her or Arthur that. It was a minor miracle that George hadn't let it slip to either parent in his initial burst of grief.

After she had finally calmed, Molly asked him, "Why do you need to see Minerva?"

"We need a decoy trunk or suitcase brought here by Muggle means, as an explanation for Potter having more than one set of clothes."

"She can't, Severus."

He raised an eyebrow.

"It's the anniversary of Elphinstone's passing. She's busy getting privately drunk at the Hog's Head, and Aberforth isn't going to bother her or force a sobriety draught on her until tomorrow morning for anything less than the castle catching on fire."

Minerva's husband had died before Severus had come to Hogwarts as a student.

Unless there was a dire need, Minerva preferred to not be aware of the time the exact moment passed and Scottish whiskey was her preferred method of attaining that blessed insensibility.

This was the first year Severus had been headmaster during this part of the summer.It had entirely skipped his mind that the anniversary was in late June.

"Then we need someone else who can"

"George can."

Severus met her eyes. "I can't impose on him."

"It's not you doing the imposing, it's _Harry_." She put her hands on her hips and Severus knew the battle was lost. "Besides, his new girlfriend wants an excuse to get him on a Muggle train and this'll definitely do."

He raised an eyebrow.

"A shopgirl from in town. He and Fred used to go talk to her, and with everything that happened, well..." She sniffled. "Well, one way or another secrecy broke and she didn't care a whit. They were already practically dating anyway, she just hadn't picked which of them she fancied more, so..."

Severus nodded.

It was good that there was some brightness beginning to show between the tragedies.

He wrote down his phone number on a fresh sheet of paper. "Call Prof. Snape from the train station in Cokeworth on arrival. Potter will come bring you to the house. Remember to plan ahead for your journey home." He handed the sheet to Molly.

She blinked as she read it. "You have a telephone?"

Severus sighed. He explained in quick perfunctory letters, "The wiring was installed before my father died."

No use letting Arthur Weasley find out just how much he understood about Muggle devices, after all. Severus had watched Tobias take it apart, fix something that had been knocked loose inside, and put it back together again on more than one occasion - and he was almost certain that in desperate need, he could figure out from the memories how to do the same.

The answer wouldn't have been out of place in any number of Wizarding homes. Only in theirs, once it was broken it stayed so.

Molly nodded. "Is there anything else you need?"

He handed her the second shopping list, then tried to find where his bag of Wizarding money had ended up in all the shuffling upheaval of making a place for Winky.

"You can pay me back later, Severus," Molly said with a smile. "What's a loan of a few hours between friends?"

 _But they can't afford... No,_ Severus realized, _they can. Only two children still at home, Arthur's new position, financial help from George if absolutely necessary..._

_Molly can afford to be paid back later. And it is only part of the shopping..._

He nodded, then wrote, "Add anything you know he likes to browse on at your home. If I'm not wrong, he's due for his next-to-last growth spurt soon. Not that the others gave him much height."

"I'll do that. He's always so hungry when he stays at the Burrow. I don't know where he's been putting it all. Harry barely ever gets taller, he never gets wider... And Quidditch may be intense, but it doesn't take _that_ much out of a Seeker and he barely plays during the summers..." Molly fretted.

Severus wrote, "Muggles often claim teenage boys have hollow legs."

Molly laughed. "I'd believe it of mine. Oh, I'll see you again before nightfall." She walked out the door once he'd nodded in acknowledgment.

Severus gently moved to lie back down from where he'd sat up during Poppy's visit, uneasy at heart.

Hunger in a teenager was normal. But if Potter was eating that much when food was available and growing so little...

By itself, it could just mean Potter had a high metabolism. He was certainly active enough for it.

But combined with what Severus had seen on Privet Drive...

_What the bloody hell was going on in your sister's house, Lily?_


	14. Chapter 14

As it was, the plans for the rest of the day were completely shot to hell when Severus and Potter reviewed the next set of potions a bit before noon, when he was due to take them.

_Damn_.

"What is it, Professor?"

Severus quickly wrote, "More than one has sedative side-effects."

"That's dangerous in Muggle medicine," Potter said with some concern.

"Not so in magical. The mechanisms are completely different for these, so the effect is not cumulative, merely reinforced. Only if the potions interact is there a danger - these won't. Even so, I won't be of use for much more than sleeping or lying still until this evening."

Potter nodded. "Right. I'll stay on the couch again tonight, then, and keep the cleaning until George and Kendra get here. Best to have another wand available in case something goes wrong."

Severus nodded. It was good cautious thinking, and Potter needed to do more of it. He needed to do so much more of it that it became a constant habit.

"And I should be able to manage when Mrs. Weasley gets here, if you aren't already recovering by then. The house elves can certainly manage the food, and besides that there really isn't anything I can think of."

* * *

A trip downstairs to the loo and a stop by the kitchen for a quick sandwich later, Severus settled back into bed for the afternoon.

"I'll check in at least once an hour," Potter promised. "And I'm sure Winky will too."

Severus nodded. "I'm sorry I can't be a more involved host," he wrote. And he was. His first chance to spend time with Lily's son since they'd both come to understand the other wasn't who they believed they were, and it was being spent exhausted or sedated.

"Professor, I _knew_ you were still wounded," Potter told him with a shake of his head. "You came home to rest."

Severus wasn't going to argue that. This morning's lying abed had barely let him recover from the previous day. Between dealing with Winky and dealing with Potter, he was still feeling the effects of the evening at the pub. They were not as bad as they had been, but he could still tell he'd pushed too far given his condition.

"And the more potions theory I read now, the less you'll have to review with me once the school term begins."

"Potter, you can't stand reading that many potions texts at a stretch. Prof. Slughorn can't stand reading that many potions texts at a stretch." Severus could, but only because he tended to get stuck on a research question until he found an answer.

"You also have a number of Muggle classics I haven't had a chance to read."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't have a chance to read anything for pleasure growing up," Potter told him, looking as defensive as Severus had ever seen him. "And at school, between classes, Quidditch, and the annual attempt on my life, there wasn't time. But there just wasn't much to do on the run, besides think and worry, and then Madam Pomfrey _insisted_ I stay in the Hospital Wing for so long..."

Tuney obviously hadn't changed her opinions towards academic learning, since 'didn't have a chance' during primary school likely meant lack of access to books outside of class. Considering Potter's record at Hogwarts, Severus wasn't surprised he hadn't had time for reading fiction. Most students didn't, after all - and the magical wonders of the world were diverse enough that any student seeking escapist reading could easily find it studying magical history, international magical beasts, or magical legends.

"fine" he signed, then wrote, "I'd advise you to start somewhere other than Dickens, given your reaction to what you've already read by him. Unless you only know Christmas Carol from television adaptations. It should be safe enough."

Without knowing _exactly_ what had spooked Potter about _David Copperfield_ , the rest of Dickens was best left untouched. Mistreatment of children underlay so many plots and secondary plots in his novels.

It would take more information to know exactly which of Dickens' many novels were emotionally safe. _Copperfield_ and _Oliver Twist_ were absolutely out, because of the mistreated orphan protagonists if nothing else, but the rest...

_Great Expectations_ , orphan protagonist. _Bleak House_ , apparently orphaned protagonist and the mistreatment of the Jellyby children. _Hard Times_ , the school might remind him too much of how Severus had acted toward him in the classroom before he'd understood that the boy didn't take after his father at all, not in the ways that truly mattered, and it was too soon in the changed relationship to remind him of those days. _Tale of Two Cities_ assumed knowledge of the Muggle French Revolution that Potter likely didn't have.

Best to avoid Dickens.

Severus didn't know how much the potions would affect him. It was likely Potter would be effectively on his own for the rest of the day unless the house elves intervened until Molly returned.

Which raised a question. "What are the house elves up to now? They stopped whatever it was when I came in the room."

"Kreacher's giving Winky pointers about managing humans, if I heard correctly. Apparently it's a major part of being a house elf, at least in the noble families. Crouch didn't seem like the sort of wizard who'd let himself be managed."

"He wouldn't."

Severus thought for a moment. Given how many meals he'd missed over the years during holidays thanks to his personal research, and how many he'd missed in the past year just trying to keep track of the demands on his time from being a first-time headmaster and chief follower of an increasingly unhinged dark lord, being 'managed' all the time the way Winky was managing his current medication schedule didn't sound like it would be all that bad.

He'd held her away in hopes of saving her life.

Now, he didn't need to anymore.

He couldn't delay any longer and unstoppered the first vial.

"I'll stay here, at least until we know how much they'll really affect you, if that's fine with you, I mean," Potter offered.

Severus drank the first potion, signed a quick "thanks" and finished the rest of the little row before settling down on his side, just in case there were side effects he hadn't foreseen.

* * *

Within twenty minutes, he was nearly asleep.

"Professor? Is everything all right?" Potter asked from the chair he'd brought into the room.

He couldn't talk, obviously. And both signing and writing required muscle control Severus simply didn't have at the moment.

"Professor?" Potter sounded worried. "I can tell you heard me - your breathing changed a little. I need to know if we need to get Madam Pomfrey."

Severus managed to get his eyes open a bit.

"Sir?"

Severus didn't process that Potter was reaching for his hand until they had already touched. In his weakened and drowsy state, plus the surprise of not having any warning of the contact at all, he flinched.

Potter stopped moving, eyes wide, then withdrew slightly. "I'm sorry. I should have remembered, from last night. You said you didn't like to be touched."

_It was the wee hours of the morning, you were weeping from a nightmare that had been real, and who could have faulted you for forgetting anything either of us said?_

And Severus hadn't said he didn't like being touched, either, just that he and physical contact did not mix well. The two statements were completely different, no matter how much most witches, wizards, and Muggles tended to conflate them as meaning the same thing.

There were just more trade-offs to it for him than there were for most, and being touched with no warning whatsoever was enough to cancel out a mountain of positives in the balancing.

"Can I please hold your hand just long enough for you to squeeze yes or no answers to a few questions?" Potter asked, rather formally at least so far as Potter's manners went. A second or two later he even went so far as to throw in a "Sir?"

Severus responded by managing to move the few centimeters between his hand and where Potter's had ended up when he backed off.

Potter firmed up the grip. "Twice for yes, three times for no, all right? That way I don't misread a single squeeze you don't ease up on as being an answer."

It was a good plan. "yes"

"Do I need to get Madam Pomfrey or Professor McGonagall?"

"no"

"Has anything gone wrong?"

"no"

"Do you mind if I get a book and sit here with you until the effect wears off? You can't call for help right now, or make enough noise to get my attention otherwise. I know a master's word is a house elf's highest law, but you can't call Winky with anything more than mental intention right now, and if you fell unconscious because something went wrong..."

"no"

Potter seemed confused, then smacked his forehead with his other hand. "No, you _don't_ mind and I can?"

"yes"

"All right, then. I'll get a few books from downstairs and come back up here. I'll let the house elves know what's going on. And when I sit back down here, I'll make sure you're close enough to reach for me if you change your mind about wanting help from Madam Pomfrey. That work as a plan for the afternoon, sir?"

"yes"

Five minutes later, Severus could hear Potter talking to the house elves, and in another five he came back into the room. With a bit of intentional focusing, Severus could just make out that Potter had chosen to start with Jane Austen.

Severus smirked.

"What?" Potter asked.

_Pride and Prejudice_ was, after all, very much a _Slytherin_ book, as were most of the other society romances of the period. All that interpersonal and interfamilial intrigue. The House of Prince had been using them for training the young in the art of maneuvering through unfamiliar social situations practically since they had been published, although they tended to using the magical examples of the genre, particularly since the family had a long history of producing children for whom practically all social situations outside the family itself were unfamiliar.

It promised to be a _very_ entertaining afternoon, watching the young Gryffindor try to make heads or tails of the book.

"Sir?" Potter asked, looking a bit more uncomfortable.

Severus couldn't resist a weak chuckle as the younger wizard sat down. True to his word, Potter made it very easy to take his hand again.

Potter sighed. "I suppose you'll want me to read out loud?"

"yes"

Between the way Potter actually did character voices to amuse himself starting two pages in, the accidental commentary that started leaking through before the first chapter was over, and the way Potter asked him "Is this a kissing book?" in a tone that made it very clear exactly what one Muggle movie Potter had managed to watch was four chapters in, the afternoon _completely_ lived up to Severus' expectations.


	15. Chapter 15

Severus was carefully easing himself into moving around again that evening, the smells of cooking beginning to waft up from the kitchen, when he heard the unmistakable sound of the Floo.

Potter had already gone back downstairs, and so it was altogether too easy to figure out from the clear sound of a teenager being unexpectedly hugged a bit too hard that Molly was back.

And if Severus hadn't been able to deduce her identity from that, the loud whoop of "Cauldron cakes! Yes!" would have given the presence of at least her cooking away.

"I know you like them," Molly's voice said clearly. "You've had few enough treats this year, and when Severus asked me to handle some of the groceries, well... I couldn't resist throwing in a few things for you."

Severus could have applauded.

It was best that Potter _not_ realize that there were any concerns at all about his height and weight. Everyone already knew at a glance that the young wizard was still thinner than he had been this time last year. It was bad enough he was reminded of his ordeal every time he saw his cheekbones in the mirror.

Physical recovery had a clear deadline -- the point in a very few years when Potter's natural final adult height was set.

If masking all the concerns about his weight and height and _just what had Petunia been permitting in her home?_ as general affection and caring could help reduce the final impact of everything that had happened to him, then that was what they needed to do.

And, with the Dark Lord permanently gone and Potter moved out, wasn't that really what the concerns were at heart anyway?

Potter was no doubt all too used to interpreting concern about his physical well-being as having to do more with his role in the war than anything else, except perhaps from his friends and Molly. It was clearly high time to break him of that particular habit.

Severus eased his way down the stairs.

"Ah, Severus," Molly said as she walked over to him and offered just enough physical support for him to get from the handrail to his favorite chair. "I hope you don't mind that I expanded the list a bit. I'm more used to teenagers, and, well, I figured you wouldn't want Harry eating you out of house and home."

Harry flushed, and from where he was standing there was no way for Molly to see it.

 _What does it take to make a teenage boy embarrassed by a joke about how much teenage boys in general eat? Much less one_ everyone _knows is half-starved at the moment?_

"fine, thank you"

"Oh! How could I forget?" she laughed, turning towards Harry and reaching into one of the bags now lying on the sofa. "These are for you, Harry. Ginny's been experimenting in the kitchen this summer. I think it's her way of waiting out the days until she comes of age. I can't believe the Ministry kept the restriction for the children who fought. At least it's only until August."

She handed a box to Harry.

 _Ginevra lives in a house with no fewer than three magical adults. Someone there is always capable of legally using magic. Why isn't she flouting..._ _Surely no one would care... Damn law-abiding Gryffindors._

_At least making food without magic is a useful skill._

Harry's eyes were wide as he opened the box. "Are those... pumpkin cupcakes with pumpkin icing?"

"Hermione said you'd missed all the flavors we use that Muggles don't, and we all know you couldn't have so much during the celebrations without making yourself sick."

"Brilliant. Really brilliant." He put the box down and hugged her. "I can't thank your family enough..."

"Nonsense," Molly told him. "Firstly, she's your girlfriend. Secondly, you're our Ron's best mate. And thirdly, we couldn't do anything for you when you were younger."

Potter looked perplexed and Severus had to actively fight to keep from rolling his eyes.

"Oh, Harry, there are so many people in the Order who wanted to do things for you, but it wasn't safe to know where you were, not until you came to Hogwarts. Probably a good thing, we'd have spoiled you as rotten as Severus _mistakenly thought_ you had been, but, well, that's how things are."

"Probably a good thing," Potter joked uncomfortably enough even Severus could see it, "or I'd have ended up as wide as my cousin Dudley was before he discovered the wrestling team two years back."

To Molly's credit, she held in her reaction until Potter carried his box and some of the bags into the kitchen.

They exchanged a very worried look then.

An overweight child who lost weight under basic physical activity -- and a significant amount at that, from how Potter had said it -- and an underweight child who was not on track to be even as tall as his shortest known blood relative under the same roof, eating from the same table?

Severus had assumed from Potter's memories during Occlumency lessons that the Dursley boy had simply inherited his heft from his father, but if he could lose it that easily and that fast from that little...

He'd also written off playground interactions between the two in the same memories as being the reaction of a slighted son to his mother's doting on his cousin at home, but if that wasn't the case...

Severus hadn't just misinterpreted bits and pieces and overlooked evidence, he finally had to admit it to himself.

He had missed everything.

Even with the child an open book under wanded legilimency, every memory laid open before him, he had missed signs of clear mistreatment of a child. He hadn't looked the right places, had intentionally only seen evidence of what he wanted to believe.

Molly came closer and whispered so softly he could barely hear her, "My boys, his second year, they broke him out of the house, said there were bars on the window and that they weren't feeding him, but I thought... I thought they were just trying to get themselves out of trouble."

"When we searched the house," Severus mouthed, waiting until she nodded understanding before he continued, "there were locks on his door. To keep him in."

There was shock in Molly's eyes and she raised her hand to her mouth.

That was when Potter walked back into the room.

The smile on his face collapsed the moment he took them in, his face blanched, and almost as soon as he could stammer out, "Um, I need to, sorry..." Potter had dashed into the loo, the lock clicking clearly the moment the door shut.

Molly immediately rushed toward the door, but only made it a step or two before Severus had a grip on her arm strong enough that she was going to have to fight him to get there.

"Severus!" she hissed quietly.

He shook his head.

His mind was focused on the young man on the other side of the locked door, but it was also on the way he'd felt at the beech tree that ill-fated afternoon so many years ago.

And if that door opened now, before Potter'd worked through the shock and horror of discovery on his own, chances were he'd never forgive himself for what he said even if they did.

Severus fumbled for a pad and pen with his free hand. "Underfed. Light lunch. Under an hour until dinner. He'll come out when he gets hungry enough."

"Severus!"

"Molly, he'll regret anything he says to either or us right now. Possibly forever. There's no way out of the house from that room except through that door without Kreacher's help."

She sighed, and Severus felt safe enough to let her go. "What were your plans for the rest of the evening?"

"Dinner. Getting ready for George in the morning. Letting Potter at my personal library again."

"And the camp bed I see in the corner there? I know you have a spare bedroom, Severus. You grew up here while your mother had an active owl-order potions lab, there has to be a spare space somewhere."

"I was going to ask George to help us clear it out."

"Why does it need clearing out?"

"The Dark Lord forced me to offer lodgings to Wormtail summer before last."

Rage flashed across her face. "Oh, I think _I_ can handle that well enough..."

"It was supposed to be a hands-on learning experience and venting opportunity for Potter."

"I was tricked into offering that damn _rodent_ lodgings for twelve _years_ , Severus Snape! And the scraps from my table! He slept on Ronald's pillow, for Merlin's sake! Percy used to let him ride on his shoulder! I helped clear out Sirius' house, I think I can handle teaching Harry how to clean out a room."

Severus nodded agreement.

It would let them all work off emotions, and let Potter know for certain that they both still considered him a capable wizard in his own right.

"We'd better get the rest of these into the kitchen," Molly told him, clearly making herself calm down. "No reason for good food to stay in the sitting room where it can't be used for a meal."

Severus sighed and stared at the ceiling once she was gone.

Why did everything have to happen while he couldn't use legilimency?


	16. Chapter 16

Food on the table for three humans? Check.

Plates, utensils, and napkins for three? Check.

Three glasses of pumpkin juice set out? Check.

 _Potter still locked in the loo? Check,_ Severus told himself sarcastically.

It had been an hour and a half.

_Surely he's smelled the food by now._

Molly stood. "I'll make sure he knows it's on the table."

Severus nodded, even though he knew for a fact that they had been making enough of a clatter that Potter had to have heard enough to know the table was set.

"Harry, dear, food's on the table. I don't know if you heard us talking earlier, but I'm staying to help clean out that room upstairs so you don't have to sleep on that dreadful sofa another night."

There was no response. Severus didn't even hear the lock click, and he knew that would be audible from where he sat in the kitchen.

Molly walked back in. "I could hear him moving around, but he didn't say anything." She sighed. "Do you think we should pull him out?" she whispered.

Severus shook his head, then pointed at himself.

Potter didn't have the calorie reserves to wait through a meal, and given the potions he was taking Severus didn't either.

And Severus wasn't about to eat without Potter at the table. It would send the exact opposite message of what the young wizard needed to hear.

Which meant it was time to 'talk' him out of there, if he wouldn't leave on his own.

Severus got up and walked to the door, knocking once but firmly.

There were three little taps a moment later.

_Well, at least he's 'talking'._

Severus knocked twice in counter-point, trying to seem firm without sounding angry.

The returning three knocks were firmer. Severus supposed that was probably a good sign: an assertion of an actual choice.

Flat-out unthinking fear was a lot harder to negotiate with.

Severus repeated the same pattern he'd used before with the same force, not backing down but also trying to give the impression he wasn't getting angry.

If Potter thought he needed to defend himself, they could be here all night.

And that was when it hit him and Severus mentally cursed in ways Lily wouldn't have wanted him to out loud in her son's hearing.

The boy was underweight, always had been.

He'd been assuming underfed in general. If Tuney or her husband had used lack of meals as a punishment regularly enough, Potter could outlast him _easily_ right now.

Hunger on the run was one thing without having to ignore smells of cooking. Hunger in a house having to ignore the smells and sounds of other people eating was something else entirely.

Another three knocks back.

Severus walked away from the door, found a clean sheet of paper, and wrote with a hand that was shaking in ways he hadn't noticed before - a bad sign - "We aren't eating until you are at the table with us."

He knocked twice again and slipped the piece of paper under the door.

After a moment, the paper slipped right back out. Severus picked it up and sighed. _So much for that working._

But then he heard the soft question of "Really?" in a choked up voice from the crack of the door.

He knocked twice, then scrawled, "You don't have to answer anything. Molly won't be able to resist asking. Redirect and I'll back you up, as least as much as I can right now."

Potter unlocked the door a moment after the paper was slipped back in but didn't open it.

Severus knocked sharply a few times.

The doorknob turned and the door opened the little bit that was more than enough permission for Severus to get his foot in the way of it closing again.

He stuck his head and shoulders in the room.

Like the lab upstairs, the lavatory had been constructed using extensive magic. Most under-the-stairs plumbing on the row was cramped, designed merely to avoid the traditional toilet in a shed out back or in the alleyway between rows. This room wasn't the match of what he'd had in his private quarters at Hogwarts as a Head of House, but it was half as large as the sitting room, mainly so there would be space for the oversize bathtub Eileen had insisted on putting in.

It was Severus' understanding that she'd been setting aside knuts from her Owl orders since they'd moved in for that, not long after the wedding. Insisting on a bath one could submerge in seemed to be a hallmark of the old wizarding families, and with magic to provide the water and drainage the only real costs to it were the tub, the enchanting, and the installation, quite a bit of which could be handled by a reasonably talented homeowner him- or herself.

By the time Tobias could afford to buy the house outright when the mill offered such to the tenant employees, Eileen could afford the tub. Then Severus had come along the same year immigration had started affecting the British textile industry, collectively ending the financial high point of Eileen and Tobias' marriage. But the family still owned the house, and Eileen had her one indulgence, free of future cost.

The presence of the tub meant a wide space between the toilet on one wall and the sink on the other.

It was that space Potter was standing in, somewhat closer to the door than the tub, the sheet of paper in one hand.

He looked miserable, and had clearly been crying for most if not all of the hour and a half. There was enough of a sheen on the tiles between the sink and the tub that Severus was fairly certain where Potter had been sitting on the floor during that time.

Severus took a step into the room and put a hand on Potter's shoulder.

It was the wrong move. He was if anything _more_ volatile than Severus had been that warm spring day so long ago at Hogwarts, and even so long alone to collect himself hadn't changed that.

He shrugged it off violently, took one look at Severus' face, and promptly spouted off something about Severus not possibly having any clue what he was feeling and being a 'Greasy Git' -- something most students knew better than to say to his face even in the worst of times -- and a 'dungeon bat'. And then he concluded by questioning whether or not he'd ever been taught how to use shampoo.

He seemed to understand what he had said before Severus did. A look of what could only be presumed to be utter desolation settled on his face. He stepped back a few paces, clearly trying to flee when there was no place to flee to, stumbled when his knees impacted the edge of the tub, and fell in backwards.

He sat there, feet dangling over the edge and his back slumped against the far side, and then the shower enchantments kicked in, making him even more wet and miserable looking than he had been the previous day.

As if to add even further reproach, a bottle fell from the shelf on the wall into the tub and rolled into the young wizard; Severus had never been more thankful that Muggles had switched to plastic for most toiletry containers.

Including shampoo bottles.

_Whatever are we to do with you, Harry?_


	17. Chapter 17

__

Severus cut off the water with a gesture.

"I'm sorry... I didn't... I wasn't... Shouldn't have said that to you... Never to you..." Harry started babbling.

It was a reaction stunning in its magnitude, and Severus thought that even Harry's knowledge of one bullying incident led by his father could not explain it entirely.

_And this is why the Muggles think 17-year-olds are still children._ A moment's thought before reacting, and the words would have never left Harry's mouth.

_Forget it, Severus,_ he told himself. _You've done the same under enough stress, as an adult. Less screaming, no crying, but close enough._

Harry hadn't bothered looking up. He wasn't trying to get up, or even to make himself more comfortable.

_Of all the days to not have words available..._

Severus reached out and patted him on the head, mussing his dripping hair a bit.

That was another wrong move. If anything, the young wizard became even more despondent.

Severus internally cursed himself. _He's been reminded his whole life he has_ James' _hair, you fool. He knows you know it. He knows you've been willing to treat him badly in the past because of it._

_And the absolute last thing he needs at the moment is..._

_...No, maybe it is_ exactly _what he needs._

Severus knelt with some difficulty, grabbed Harry's wrist, and raised his hand to his neck.

Harry shook, sniffled a bit for a moment, and finally mumbled in a cracking voice, "You're trying to remind me you know I'm not like Dad was when you were kids? Same way you mentioned Mum's eyes in the boathouse?"

Severus nodded and let go of his wrist.

Harry took a few deep breaths and got his legs into the tub and under the rest of him.

Severus reached for his wand.

"I can do it," Harry insisted quickly. "You showed me how, last night."

Severus nodded. It wasn't a spell that could do damage if Harry was too emotionally stressed to cast it properly, a real concern for a first or second try at many spells. After that, the subconscious mind usually started figuring out what it was supposed to do with less prompting, and eventually didn't even need the words of the spell.

Truly advanced nonverbal - or even wandless - magic and childhood accidental magic were often only different in that the adult had much more than a whisper of a clue what he was trying to do.

He did carefully observe as Harry cast the spell, and personally noted that while Harry's hair remained dripping, the lad had made no move to dry it, just his clothing.

Harry picked up the bottle and turned an interesting shade of pink after apparently reading the label.

Severus could almost see the question of where he could run to _now_ forming.

He quickly made a shushing noise - something which, thankfully, did _not_ require functioning vocal cords - and took the bottle from him.

Now was not the time for getting any revenge at all. There would be plenty of time for having a bit of fun at Harry's expense once the school year started and independent Potions lessons alone began. And it would _only_ be a bit of fun - what Harry had said to him was nothing compared to what he'd told Lily all those years ago - and he'd make damned sure Harry didn't think it was more of the old patterns again.

"I guess that answers that," Harry commented nervously.

Severus nodded. He reached for the piece of paper, magically dried it off, and quickly scrawled, "Food first. Everything else can wait."

Harry had looked less happy when Albus announced whole-school end-of-term examination cancellations. "Thank you, Professor."

Severus made sure nothing else got triggered as Harry stood and stepped out of the tub.

The young wizard felt at his back for a moment, blatantly puzzled.

Severus looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. Clearly, there _was_ a change in the curriculum needed. He quickly wrote, "Wizarding bathrooms generally have cushioning and other anti-injury charms to guard against slips, falls, bruises, breaks, and bathtub drownings. The ones here were refreshed only a few days ago, and they can last for years."

Harry blinked. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant." He tilted his head for a moment. "Sir, if it's that easy then why..."

Severus signaled for him to keep going with the question.

"Well, then why does the Restriction On Underage Magic include charms like that, even after sitting OWLs? Hermione could've set charms like that, with enough research. It's not like Muggleborns have anyone to cast them on their homes for them."

_Except they usually do,_ Severus remembered, thinking back to the day his mother had gone over to safety spell the Evans household. Mrs. Evans had 'paid' her in some Muggle books she hadn't been able to borrow elsewhere, but she would've gone and done it anyway.

It was a fact of wizarding life in years past that Muggleborns tended to attach themselves to an established magical family early on, usually that of a Hogwarts yearmate in the same house. An established magical family that could do things like set safety spells on the child's home.

And then, Severus wanted to smack his forehead against the wall.

Harry had attached himself to Ronald Weasley, and Molly had believed Albus had the boy's safety under complete control. Miss Granger had attached herself to Harry, and it wasn't legal for him to try and he would've made a bigger mess of it than she would.

_Damn you, Albus. They both grew up without safety spells, and under the rules before the Wizengamot changed them under your direction it would have been legal for either of them to set them up once they had a reasonable mark on the Charms OWL, at least under perfunctory supervision._

_So Ginevra can't do magic for another month because of when she was born, and the loopholes you were trying to close that the Dark Lord exploited as a boy are still wide open for anyone able to access a sufficiently magic-saturated location._

Not for the first time, Severus thought the Ministry needed to start running drafted legislation past a board of the sneakiest Slytherin light witches and wizards, just to find all the insensibilities _before_ they became law.

"Sir?"

"you me go eat NOW"

Harry followed him out, hair still dripping.

* * *

When they both walked into the kitchen, not only did Molly seem rather unconcerned but she had laid out food for each of the three of them. Not the cupcakes, since those were Harry's alone, but some sort of berry tart.

He'd smelled something like it before at Order meetings in Grimmauld Place, but he had never stayed to eat with the rest of the Order. Always this part of the summer, and he wouldn't be surprised if the berries came from somewhere around the Burrow.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her.

"You both need the blood sugar boost. And yes, Severus, I _was_ sure I didn't need to rescue him from you. If you could keep from hexing Sirius in Order meetings for some of the things he said, you could manage not damaging one distraught and reactive teenager. So get that look off your face and sit down before you both start falling over.

As Severus sat, he caught Harry looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

Apparently he hadn't noticed Severus was shaking earlier. _Or maybe he figured it was all anger_ , Severus reminded himself. He'd certainly done enough of _that_ in front of Lily's son over the years.

Harry's eyes were wide as he himself sat down. "Professor, I didn't realize... I knew you were waiting... If I had known..."

Severus waved off the concern.

"But..."

He sighed, shook his head, and mouthed, "Silly Gryffindors," in the most affected manner he could manage.

Molly hid a smile behind her hand.

Once he and Harry had their mouths full of tart, she said, "Harry, I don't know how much of what you heard us talking about while you were in there, but I'm staying to clean out that guest room so you don't have to sleep on that dreadful sofa another night. No need for you to wait until tomorrow."

Harry swallowed. "Um, I don't think I can help tonight..."

"You can still observe. And there are plenty of spells you've already learned that will be of use."

Harry nodded. "Right. And I can clean things the Muggle way, too." He glanced between the two.

Severus nodded his assent. A bit of physical exertion might be good for him right now.

They were all mostly quiet for the rest of the meal, apart from requests to pass things and with such a small table and only three people sitting at it very few things were ever out of someone's reasonably polite reach. Between Severus' own missing voice and Harry's emotional state, that was probably the best for everyone.

Given the occasional sniffles Severus could hear coming from the other wizard, he had a pretty good idea just why Harry had kept his hair wet.


	18. Chapter 18

The room was an absolute, well, rat's nest.

Apparently the years living as a rodent had rubbed off on the treacherous animagus more than even Severus had realized.

He and Harry sat in chairs on the small landing while Molly did the spellwork. Harry constantly asked questions and Severus scrawled out answers and explanations.

When she was done, they thanked her, Severus paid her back for the groceries, and she left through the Floo.

That was when Severus handed over the tub of cleaning supplies and told Harry to clean the room until he felt it was cleansed enough to be occupied.

Winky must have been listening, because when Severus caught her watching she was merely _holding_ her ears, not pulling at them.

"He needs the exertion," he mouthed to her when she looked his way.

Winky had nodded at that.

By the time Winky and Kreacher _popped_ the camp bed up the stairs and Severus pushed it into place, the room smelled of nothing more than citrus and pine.

One long rummage through the linen closet and the room was ready for the night.

Severus stood in the doorway, looking in and quite pleased with the evening's accomplishments.

And to top it all off, Harry had finally felt secure and calm enough to dry his hair.

"Master, Winky is needing to be asking, may Kreacher use what Winky did not from Master's to-be-rags pile for bedding?"

He nodded, smiling enough that it ought to give a sense that asking was more than acceptable.

"Kreacher is picking the bottom of the linen closet, sir."

"I'm not using the closet," Harry spoke quickly. "If he wants to use it, I've got no problem with him doing so."

And after Harry took a quick trip downstairs to check on the house-elf, that was exactly what Kreacher did.

* * *

All was quiet in the night.

Severus was, for once, honestly and completely happy about something: No night potions doses to match the ones that had knocked him flat in the afternoon. Which meant no being medically helpless while Harry was asleep, and with the incident of the previous night that might well mean Dreamless Sleep again before the week was out.

House-elf magic was impressive and oft-underestimated, but Severus still felt better with at least one capable wand-user in the building.

He took the last potion of the night and settled in, letting Winky be the one to put the light out.

Rustling from across the landing. Something that might have been mumbling.

_Not again._

Severus got out of bed and walked to the door.

_Just how many nightmares does Harry have in a week_? he asked himself as he walked across to the other door, which was slightly open.

Severus lit the tip of his wand and peered through the crack.

_Damn._ It _was_ another nightmare.

Harry was twisted up in the blankets, head turning from side to side.

Severus pushed the door open, the hinges creaking from disuse.

Harry quieted.

Severus stood there quietly. If the creaking sound had been out of place enough to disrupt whatever the young wizard was reliving, he wouldn't need to do anything else. With any luck, Harry would be one of those lucky people who did not remember nightmares unless they woke during them.

After a moment, he carefully backed out.

His hand reached for the doorknob to pull the door back to where it had been.

_Clink._

Harry started pleading, "Please, I don't know what happened, I'll be good, please..."

Severus felt the blood leave his face and was kneeling at the side of the bed in a breath or two, moving nearly without thinking.

He knew that plea.

He'd heard it or a variation from nearly every Slytherin Muggleborn at least once in his time as their Head Of House.

It usually ended in hot cocoa, biscuits, and careful Repeat After Me affirmations that magical ability was merely uncommon not abnormal, that magic folk were indeed born with the trait, and that Muggle religious objections to magic in general were grounded in misunderstandings or outright bigotry. All that was usually followed by instruction that while they had learned to be crafty to hide their magic or endure their punishments, such skills were better reserved for other purposes now.

Blood-status bigotry might be prevalent in the House, but it was a very small percentage of Slytherins who _didn't_ get offended at the thought of a child being punished for doing magic, even if they'd never dream of letting said child marry into the family or work for the Ministry. Magic was magic and Muggle was Muggle, and even purebloods who used a certain slur tended to take an attack by Muggles on a Muggleborn child as a Muggle attack on a _wizarding_ child. Umbridge was an aberration.

And these days, it often took that communal attitude as an insulating factor for the Sorting Hat to consign a Muggle-born to the dungeons.

Severus thought a few words Lily would not have approved of as he spelled the lights on dimly and shook Harry's shoulder.

He'd seen a memory of a dream of the Sorting Hat trying to put him in Slytherin. But Harry had dreams that were relived memories. It had actually been a real event all along.

And for _Harry Potter_ of all people to be nearly Sorted into the House the Death Eaters' children dominated...

Harry started awake, babbling some apology about oversleeping and breakfast before trailing off in apparent horror.

"Shh."

"Professor, I'm sorry I woke you up. Kreacher knows I don't react well to house-elves waking me and I should have put up a Silencing Charm but it's your house and I needed to be able to hear you if you needed me and I'm not the best at them..."

"Shh." Severus mouthed, "Just calm down," and gave Harry's shoulder a little squeeze.

Once the younger wizard had managed to calm down some, Severus Summoned a pen and paper. "What do you think triggered this one?"

"I'm not sure, sir."

Except that didn't seem to be the entire truth.

The room still smelled like citrus and pine. Harry should be used to that, since even with everything moved out of the house Number 4 Privet Drive smelled of cleaner...

Severus closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before opening them again.

No wonder Harry hadn't needed to ask about how to use anything in the plastic tub.

"Professor?"

"Shh." He thought for a moment, then tried transfiguring the lingering odors into something a bit more welcoming.

The room now smelled like the pumpkin pies served at Hogwarts' feasts.

"Brilliant." A pause. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

Severus wrote, "You aren't being a bother." Even this late in the night, it was true. "I'll be drowsing the afternoon away again no matter how much I sleep tonight. Just who do you think has to deal with abused Muggle-borns who turn crafty and sneaky to survive when their families don't understand?"

It took a moment before Harry quietly asked, "The Head of Slytherin House?"

Severus ruffled his hair a little in affirmation, and Harry James Potter finally _broke_.

It took Kreacher bringing them three vials of Calming Draught from the unsorted stockpile in the other room before Harry was intelligible again. It was only three-quarters of a regular adult dose, since Severus never dared to take enough to lose his edge, but for someone Harry's weight it should have had a greater effect.

"Uncle Vernon wouldn't let us say the word 'magic'. They never let Dudley see _Princess Bride_ because they said it had a wizard in it and he tried to sneak watching it and they weren't even up the cliff when Aunt Petunia came home and I got punished for having listened even though I wasn't even in the room. I think he only got punished for doing anything that might be magic-friendly, ever. I had to clean the house and cook breakfast and there was never enough left on the table for me. Uncle Vernon locked my trunk up first and second year so I couldn't do any studying outside Hogwarts and I only had it third year when I ran because they thought the twins might break me out again if they didn't and after that they were afraid of Sirius. They wouldn't let Dudley watch _Holy Grail_ because they claimed Merlin was probably in it..."

_Damn you forever, Tuney Evans._

* * *

It took a while for Harry to calm down again.

"Professor, I..."

"Shh." He wrote, "You'll need to be rested in the morning to bring George here. We need to try to keep you from having a repeat nightmare."

Harry's eyes dulled.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Unless you want to have to to explain your sleep-deprivation to him?"

"Oh."

"Smell, we've changed. And I should have already set up a light."

"I do _not_ need a night-light!"

_Gryffindors._ "Merely so you can tell where you are if you startle awake, and because I doubt from what you've told me that you slept with a light on Privet Drive."

Harry looked away. "Fine. That makes sense."

"I take it you never slept with a full stomach there?"

"I can't. I've tried at Hogwarts and at the Burrow, it always feels wrong."

"Can you manage after something lighter? Something that would leave an aftertaste you don't associate with that house?"

Harry nodded. "I think I could." He brightened. "I think I know something that might work. I meant them for you, but..."

Severus felt an eyebrow raise. _What in Merlin's name? What would he have bought for me?_

Harry's face sunk.

"go!" Severus waved him toward the door.

Harry went downstairs quickly and upstairs not so quickly.

He walked back into the guest room carrying a still-wrapped packet. He was staring at it.

_Ah. Ice lollies. The universal Muggle solution to every youngster's throat ills._

Only something was clearly wrong.

"This is the kind my aunt buys for Dudley. He must've gone through a box a day when he had his tonsils out," Harry told him once he'd sat back down and noticed the look on Severus' face. "I never knew they came wrapped in pairs."

"Shh." Severus reached for the pen again. "My mother always said that meant you were supposed to share the second one."

"So you'll take the second one."

Severus nodded. "And, whenever I do have one for my throat --"

Harry's face lit up.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was back under the sheets and the room was lit only by a glowing wizarding night-light globe floating near the ceiling.

"Thanks for everything, Professor," Harry mumbled.

Severus mussed his hair one last time.

"Why couldn't things have always been this way?"

Severus eased back down and scrawled out, "Because I was a damn blind fool, and because I would have forced Albus to remove you from their home."

Harry glanced at the page and his eyes gleamed. "You really would have...?"

"And then you would not have survived. You would have lost Lily's protection entirely, as your aunt was the only blood relative available who could maintain it. You would have died, and not come back. It's better this way."

Harry nodded and rubbed at his eyes for a moment. "Yeah."

"now sleep!"

Severus left once Harry's breathing evened out in sleep and settled back into his own bed for what he hoped would be the rest of the night. He cast a muffling charm on the door, sure that he could hear Harry if anything happened and that Winky would get help if anything happened to him. He turned onto his side, hugged a pillow, and let the emotional control that had got him through the past two hours _go._

_Nearly eighteen -- EIGHTEEN! -- and he'd never known they came wrapped in pairs after living in a house where they were bought and consumed for sixteen years! The Boy Who Lived, taught to suppress his own magic and punished when it wouldn't work, and_ I _missed it. Me. The Head of Slytherin._

_And damn it, Lily, why is keeping things from me the only way to keep me from getting people killed!? I got you and your husband killed with that blasted prophecy, I'd have got your son killed if I'd known how your sister keeps a home -- him and me both... And everyone who would have followed us..._

_Damn it..._


	19. Chapter 19

He hurt. It even hurt to breathe now. Something in his throat was wrong.

He could nearly manage with short pants, but a few times a minute he had to try for a larger gulp that left him trembling from the pain.

 _Please don't let anyone find me,_ he asked the universe.

He did not want to die alone, but all the alternatives...

Even if he could be saved, no one would want to do it.

The Death Eaters would all know the Dark Lord had wished his death the moment they saw the raking wound at his neck. He'd offended them often enough by action or by the fact of his birth that the best he could hope for was that the torture would significantly hasten the end.

The Order? They had never been told Albus was dying. The best he'd get from them was a fast battlefield execution, if he was very lucky.

The students? It didn't bear thinking of. He didn't want to die with their derision in his ears, didn't want to think of how they'd react once he was gone and they realized how much further the Carrows had wanted to mistreat them...

And even dying alone like this was better than he had expected during the long years of spying.

The trembling increased, so much it felt like he was being shaken.

 _It's over,_ he told himself in soothing mental tones. _No more cruciation. No more high-stakes occlumency while praying you haven't miscalculated who is in his favor._

_No more. Just this little longer. This is the worst pain you're going to feel from here on out._

There was regret, but he buried it down. There was nothing he could do to change any of it now, and nothing he could leave behind that Potter would trust even if he could spare the effort to try.

He could apologize for everything soon enough. In person.

He was keeping his eyes closed now, trying to hold on. Yes, unconsciousness or death would be welcomed relief at the moment, but he was a Slytherin. Slytherins fought to survive to the last, always looking for the chance to take their enemies with them even when the end was inevitable.

The sound of the door. Footsteps drawing nearer. The sound of a wand falling to the floor.

His breathing increased unconsciously, hurting even more. He tried to turn his head toward whoever it was. The pain was so blinding he knew it would be worthless to open his eyes, but they drifted open anyway.

And then there was a hand at his throat, covering the worst of the wound. Something shifted inside and the pain of breathing eased just enough for him to take a few good even breaths. His vision cleared just enough and the shaking eased.

 _Corduroy. Who would be wearing corduroy?_ No one in the Order's invasion force had been wearing corduroy. None of the students would have had such a distinctively _Muggle_ cloth on the grounds this year.

His eyes drifted up, and Lily's son was looking at him with an emotion on his face that Severus had never expected to ever see there: something unmistakable even by Severus as anything but worried distress.

He dredged up enough strength to use just as much legilimency as it would take to be sure...

He could feel the line between them! Sweet Merlin, he could feel the line!

All these years, he had been sensing _both of them!_

Shame welled up, and mourning.

And tears.

With that, he knew what he had to do. He'd given Albus enough memories of Death Eater meetings that the mental pathway needed was as worn as the one for walking across a room and now his own mistakes were giving him the medium.

_I'm taking you with me, you flat-faced bastard._

And then he was shaking even harder, with pressure on his back and a voice in his ear.

"Professor, it's only a nightmare. You need to wake up. It's only a nightmare. You are safe at home and he can't hurt anyone ever again."

Severus shook his head to clear it and occluded down the lingering emotional shakiness. He tried to say, "I'm awake," but couldn't. He had to settle for a thumbs-up instead.

"You have about an hour until you're due for potions and around three or four before George's train arrives," Harry told him. "And if you need proof that I am me, I can tell you that I thought of that first day in Potions every single time we camped where aconite was growing and that we could see last year's growth of said plant in the area where we received the sword."

Severus gave him another thumbs up. He'd noticed that himself, and had every intention of going back for some ingredient harvesting later on.

_That could be a good lesson in early October..._

"Winky will be bringing Master his breakfast," the house-elf announced.

 _Full English for two,_ he thought 'loudly', hoping she'd catch it. _Large portions with the serving platters on the table. And we're coming downstairs for it!_

He really did need to do some research into just how far the limits of house-elf magic went.

Severus rolled onto his back for easier signing. "down eat"

"You want us to go downstairs for breakfast?"

Thumbs-up. He pointed at Harry, then at the door.

"And you want me to leave."

Severus nodded.

"Then I'll go. I hope you don't mind if I take first turn washing up?"

Severus waved him on.

Harry turned in the doorway. "I'm glad we're both alive, sir."

"me two"

Harry tilted his head.

"what?"

"I thought most wizards understood homophones."

"smart arse"

"Wow. You actually agree with Seamus about something besides the flashpoint of fluxweed. He claims it's the most intelligent part of me, but then he also claimed the incident with the flaming cold porridge third year wasn't his fault..."

Severus rolled his eyes, shook his head, and casually tossed a pillow in Harry's direction.

Harry froze, eyes wide, as if waiting for something.

Severus froze as well. Last night's venting session hadn't revealed outright physical abuse beyond basic rough handling, but if Harry had been able to hide as much as he had from everyone...

There was no telling, and even with legilimency he'd have to know the right places to look. He'd already proved a failure at that form of discovery so far as Harry was concerned.

And Harry's joking bore all the hallmarks of an abuse victim testing whether it was really safe to press at a boundary.

Which meant he _had_ been feeling _safe_ here. Despite the mutual history, despite Severus' ire at Harry's father.

_Damn._

Harry moved first. He picked the pillow up, turned it in his hands for a moment nervously, casually tossed it back, and walked out of the room.

Severus glanced at the pillow as he put it back in its proper place.

There were salt tracks on the cloth from his weeping that morning.


	20. Chapter 20

Even with Harry taking first shower, Severus beat him to the breakfast table.

The house-elves had fulfilled his wishes exactly, and more food than the two wizards could hope to eat was on the table. Full English breakfast, enough for three adult human men... or two adult human men and two adult house-elves with a taste for leftovers, Severus suspected.

"Professor... I... you didn't have to..."

Severus raised a finger to his lips before resorting to the pen as Harry sat down. "You need reminders that things are not going to be that way again."

"They will be if I don't figure out what to do with myself after Hogwarts," Harry said darkly as he started to fill his own plate.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I've been having to financially support my own schooling, and while Dad's family had a lot of gold..."

"You've never been to see the vaults you inherited from Black, have you?"

"What does that mean?"

"The House Of Black has been accumulating wealth since before the Authorized Version was translated. I don't doubt there's enough there to keep you fed and amused for a hundred lifetimes. And besides, I doubt the wizarding world would ever let The Man Who Lived starve." He abandoned the pen and turned his attention to his own meal.

Harry managed a small smile. "I guess I need to start seeing being me as having some advantages, don't I?"

Severus nodded. In the old days, he would have snarked "Haven't you already?" but after last night...

It was just too soon.

It was even too soon for him to bring up the pillow incident that had happened just that morning. Harry didn't bring it up either.

The fact just simply hung in the air, unsaid: Severus knew the Quidditch pitch wasn't the only place Harry'd had things thrown at him and Harry knew that the things he'd been through growing up had been enough to move Severus to tears once he'd found out about them.

And all too soon, the meal was done and Harry was off to meet George and Kendra.

Severus stared at the food still left on the table.

The two house-elves popped into the room by the second impatient but intentional tap of his foot.

_I don't want to see any of this again. Start fresh tomorrow,_ he thought hard, hoping the wonders of house-elf magic would make his intentions clear to Winky at least.

It must have worked because she looked dejected.

Or at least she did until Kreacher leaned over to her and whispered something in her ear.

She brightened a little. "Master is meaning Winky and Kreacher can...?" It was incredibly obvious she couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

He nodded, smiling. _Master is meaning._

And then shook his head when they and the food disappeared and a Winky-sounding cheer came from somewhere upstairs. That was such an old pureblooded custom that even _he_ knew about it -- a way to make sure the house-elves knew the leftovers were theirs without making it feel like payment. But she had only served the Crouches before she came to Hogwarts, and it seemed clear that Barty Sr and Jr had neither of them given her or any other house-elf in their household that bit of leave.

* * *

"Oh, what a lovely home," Kendra said first thing as she walked through the door.

Severus had to take a minute to realize that the Muggle girl was not being sarcastic.

_She's a shopgirl. She doesn't expect the flashiness richer Muggles manage._

"And well, I didn't expect... oh how to put it nicely..."

Severus knew exactly what she was trying to say and started chuckling.

"Burrow's quite shocking if you aren't used to Strengthening Charms in architecture, isn't it?" he wrote with tears in his eyes.

"Yes. It. Is."

"Wait, the Burrow is the only one of our homes you've seen yet?" Harry asked her, helping George get a beat-up old trunk of Charlie's -- at least by the initials, though knowing the Weasleys there was no knowing who technically owned it by now -- into the door.

The door shut and the risks to secrecy went away.

"So far," George confirmed. "At least beyond the apartment above the shop, and there's really nothing outstanding even we wizards can do with those." He got out his wand and set a light-weight charm on the trunk. "Least now no one can think a full trunk shouldn't be this light."

"Great. So Professor, should I go ahead and Floo to Grimmauld Place now, or wait until later?"

There was something in Kendra's eyes...

"Why not, while you have the help available?" Severus wrote. "But take the trunk, and only bring what can fit inside it without any magical expansion. That way no one in the neighborhood can figure you have more clothes than you ought to."

"Right."

It was clear Kendra had only traveled by Floo once or twice, but Harry had to take her with him anyway and so that worked out.

No need to fear pronunciation errors when someone else was giving the Floo network the directions.

Which left George and Severus in his living room.

"i am sorry" Severus signed.

"You told me before and I've accepted the apology before, Professor. Better my ear than Remus dying before he could see Teddy born."

Severus nodded.

"You honestly grew up here?" George asked with one eyebrow raised.

Severus gave him a little glare and nodded. "What did you expect?" he wrote.

"Bubbling cauldrons, for one thing."

"Firstly, that's upstairs so I only lose the roof if something goes wrong and secondly, do you honestly think I'm in any shape to brew right now?"

"No," George replied in the most forced deadpan Severus had ever seen. "Lab safety, first practical class. If you have to use a stirring spell less than five minutes in, you're in no shape to have a potion actively brewing. Sitting stewing, it depends on the potion and the stage; use a stasis spell immediately if you can't keep an eye on something potentially volatile. It's less the issue of strength and endurance and more the matter of being able to react in time if something happens wrong. 'As will often be the case, if you're anything like the dunderheads I usually have to teach'." He ended with the most spot-on impression of Severus' continual refrain in his first month first-year potions speeches Severus had ever heard.

Severus laughed.

George looked at him in halfway-mocking horror.

And then Severus sobered.

He was headmaster now, never again to teach Potions unless there was a desperate and sudden need for it.

Trying to find professors for Muggle Studies and Defense Against The Dark Arts was going to be hard enough. Thinking about how Horace needed to retire in the next ten years was the last thing Severus needed to be thinking about.

_A student will no doubt present him or herself when needed, most likely a Slytherin._ Old pattern, that, as old as the school. _I certainly showed up just in time for Horace to want to leave the first time._

He even had a student or two in mind for that.

And for Pomona's post, which was likely to come open even sooner.

"Professor?"

He shook his head. He wrote, "Don't worry about it. Headmaster thoughts. Two openings. Kingsley's trying to come up with candidates."

"You should worry about it either," George told him simply. "Dumbledore always found someone."

Severus stared at him.

A moment later they were both chuckling at memories of how _bad_ those someone's had been.

"At least you can't do worse than Umbridge."

And, indeed, he couldn't.

But honestly, it was the Muggle Studies post he was truly worried about. "Muggle Studies is open. Know anyone right for it?" Severus wrote, realizing that as a wizard dating a Muggle in these times, George might honestly know someone.

"Not unless our father's become a reasonable source for information about Muggles. And we know he isn't."

Severus shook his head. _Of course Arthur isn't._


End file.
